Out of the Darkness
by Superagaentv
Summary: A few weeks before Thorin's group heads into Mirkwood, one person has the misfortune of venturing in; the pain of death from behind and the wrath of an Elvish King to the east. Will love cure such blindness, or shall they ever remain in darkness?
1. Part 1

Part 1

Tenebrosity of the Moon

"I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness for it shows me the stars."  
Og Mandino


	2. It Begins

The sun was heavy, little wind blew across the plain, and few birds sang out, their number seemed to fade more and more by day. A small farmhouse sat towards the eastern lands of Rohan, smoke rising from its chimney. A young dog chased insects as its master leaned against the doorframe of the house, smiling. Her hair was rich dark red, with pale skin set against emerald eyes, lying down over her collarbone, easily touching the fabric of her dress, flowing down over the shoulders to the torso.

She looked to the west, her thoughts travelling to the Kingdom of Rohan. How she longed to live among people, as much as she loved her father and brother - this isolation almost drove her mad. Their reasoning was that the minds of men were poisoned in great populations, so instead they stayed towards the east, hunting when they could.

"Mourena!" A voice called, and she turned her head so see her brother riding in, holding up rabbits with a smile.

"Morning Tanin." The girl smiled, offering her brother a hug as he jumped off and giving her the rabbits. "Lovely." She grimaced, not that he noticed, going into the house and opening a flask of wine. "Where is father, I thought he went with you this morning?"

"A rider came early requesting his presence in Edoras." Her brother responded as she tied the rabbits up outside.

"Edoras?" She questioned, "Surely if father was needed he would journey to a place not so far."

"I only repeat what I heard myself." Tanin responded coldy.

Mourena tilted her head to the side, lost in her own thought. Tanin was making a fuss in the house, searching for something to smoke his pipe with. "Are you too young to smoke a pipe Tanin?" She thought aloud, earning an angry reply about him being two years old than she. She sighed and something in the distance caught her eye. "Tanin." She said, holding out her hand to him. "Tanin, someone rides our way." Her brother came out, looking at the moving figure with squinted eyes against the sun. As it approached Mourena smiled, "Father!" she waved, moving closer.

"Tanin," The man cried, launching himself off his horse as he got within distance. "Get your sister out of here." He wrapped his hands around his daughter's waist and lifted her on his mount, which was the faster of the two horses they had.

"Father, what is going on?" She asked, now sitting uncomfortably upon the saddle, when she heard a sound in the distance that made her blood run cold. "What was that?"

"Ride, ride to the forest. Hurry now." He said as Tanin got up behind his sister, putting an arm around her as he kicked the horse into gear. "Fly, like the wind." He called after them as the house became smaller in the background.

She felt the tears on her cheeks as they rode, but knew not why they fell, the forest looming in the distance as the sound was heard once more. "There's something coming this way." She whispered, looking over his shoulder.

"Swing your leg over Mourena," Her brother whispered, and she did so as she listened to the sound again. He made a noise to the horse to urge it to go faster, which it did, white foam forming around its mouth. The forest seemed to get closer, while the impending doom that seemed to linger around it made Mourena grimace. Her brother made a noise, like a gurgle and slumped forward, and she gasped in surprise as she felt blood seeping onto her shoulder. Taking the reins with shaking hands she urged the steed to go, hearing a sound of an arrow being released from its hold. Crying out as the arrow grazed her shoulder, ripping flesh as it went, she urged the horse on.

More arrows were let fly, and she tried to keep her eyes steady on the forest when her horse made a sickening scream, legs going out from under it. Mourena found her body pitched forward, flying in almost slow motion off the poor creature, landing hard and bouncing forwards. Her head throbbed, blood trickling down her face as she looked back, creatures on giant wolves rode towards her, later she would learn to call them by their name, Wargs. Pushing her feet to action, she ran towards the forest, feeling her breath caught in her chest at the forest loomed.

Pain shot through her body as an arrow hit its mark in her shoulder as she reached the entrance to the forest. She pushed on, running into the darkness of the trees, her meager shoes making light tapping noises on the stone pathway she blindly was following. She ran without thought or reason, fear made her go deeper and deeper into the wood, abandoning reason or the myths of what resided within.

_"You must never go into the forest aiwë." A woman said to a little girl that sat on her knee, deep red curls were tied up on her head, her belly large with child._

_"Why mummy?" The child responded, watching its mother intently._

_"That's the realm of the Elves, my love." She replied, "And it would be very rude to enter his kingdom without permission."_

_"Whose kingdom mummy?" The child asked again, touching her mother's face as a stray curl fell out of place._

_"The Great Elf King," The woman responded, touching the red hair of her daughter in a soothing way._

_"Well I have never seen him." Tanin proclaimed from the floor. "He can't be all that great, can he."_

_"Can I still play in the forest mummy?" Mourena asked, after her mother had chastised her son._

_"No_ _aiwë, you must never enter the forest."_

_"Ever?" Tanin questioned._

_"If you must go in, always follow the path." Her mother nodded, putting her daughter down. "Follow the path aiwë."_

Catching her foot, she felt her body fall through the air once more, her head hitting something hard. She groaned - her vision cutting in and out, as she made herself stand. As she walked, she felt the air thicken, and she could no longer hear the sound her shoes made on the stones beneath her feet. Not knowing how long she wandered for, in total darkness for her sight had fled, she finally collapsed. Curling herself into a ball, she fought the tears, and sleep overcame her.


	3. Wander

She woke with heavy lungs, the air thick and seasoned with death, trying to stand. Pain ripped through her right shoulder, the arrow lodged there still, the rush that pushed her onward had long since faded, leaving pain and fear to rule her thoughts. Her eyes were still dark, the blindness had a stronghold upon her. Running her fingers over the wound, she gasped as the arrow came under her touch, taking a slow breath as she wrapped her fingers of the shaft.

Counting slowly to three, she attempted to break it, gasping in pain as the arrow twisted within her skin. She felt hot tears on her cheeks, clenching her teeth as she broke the shaft of the arrow, crying out softly in the darkness. Tossing the broken piece aside, she shook in agony, her body reacting to a type of pain she had never felt before.

Something moved in the darkness behind her, and she held her breath, listening in a frozen panic. Hearing something snap, and she pushed herself forward, running blindly through the forest as it carried her in many ways. Her fingers found themselves in something sticky yet strong, holding her limbs fast in its grasp. She heard a sound crying out, knowing but not understanding, it were her own voice. This web she had found held her fast, though ere brain did not register that it was she who was stuck, not that it was a web she had found herself within. She pulled and fought, breaking through one; only to become caught in another.

There was a cackling, or cracking noise from above that made she swing her head up in that direction. Something moved in the shadows above her, and she felt the shiver in her spine as something approached, the movement of the webs told her so. Her breath felt ragged, as something brushed the paleness of her skin. Finding her voice for a moment, it enabled her to take a breath, letting out a scream that echoed the bellowing from the depths of her soul.

She fought, hearing more snapping branches, whatever hovered near brought its own company. Mourena's thoughts ran to her father, hoping he was well, far away from this place. The thought of seeing him again spurned a new heat in her heart. Breaking one arm free she pulled herself out, just as something of large size dropped to the forest floor where she had just been. Running was her only thought, she was left following her senses. Something large hit the forest floor in front of her and hissed, a rather unpleasant sound by all accounts.

Turning sharply, she hit water, coughing and gagging on the foul stench as her body seemed to lack all strength to continue. Pulling herself slowly out of the water, struggling to find every breath, she clutched her chest with her left hand, her right too sore to move. As she lay on the ground her thoughts danced to a forgotten memory, an elvish kingdom and the rumour of a temperamental King. Would death have been better than this? A swift and unkind death compared to this lingering ….festering? If she survived this unpleasantness, would she have any hope of meeting this king, or would he be as swift and fury filled as legend told, rendering her an even longer prolonged death.

Something was moving swiftly in the shadows, her ears could detect but her body showed no signs of moving. If this was death she was resigned to it, but none came. And the sounds within the darkness seemed to diminish to an eerie calm and silence. _"Ren."_ A voice whispered, and she opened her unseeing eyes and looked in vain for the speaker. "_My darling girl."_

"Father?" Mourena breathed, sitting up as best she could.

_"Mourena." _

Mourena stood, the fog seemed to form figures in her head, the voice whispering her name. "Where are you papa?" She walked slowly, her feet moving sluggishly; very like her thoughts.

_"Come, this way my darling."_ She walked, for how long she knew naught. Her breath was slow and ragged, stumbling around with her hand outstretched in the darkness.

Her fingers touched a silky substance, her heart fluttered in fear but her head told her everything was alright – like her hand had found security, safety. She wrapped her fingers in it, her ears deaf to the sounds behind her. A long leg dropped down, followed by another one, eight times did legs dropped down. Hissing seemed more like a faraway lullaby, as she turned her head slightly to face whatever lay behind her. Pain shot through her face as an arrow whizzed by, catching part of her ear, breaking through the webs with ease. The spider screamed, in a language she could not hear nor understand. Touching her face, she blinked and rubbed her eyes; while no sight returned other faculties seemed flooded with new strength.

She bolted, fear once again making her run from whatever made noises around her, her feet moving through the pain that coursed through her. Something strong wrapped itself around her waist, it felt like an arm but mistrusted her own judgement, so she fought against it. Language like sounds were clear to her ears, but she did not understand. Gasping when pressure was applied to her hurt shoulder, she put a hand on whatever was causing her pain and found it to resemble a hand in configuration. The gripped lessoned and she fell forward with a cry of anguish. Someone was speaking nearby as the pain flooded her body - overtaking her, her mind giving way to darkness.

* * *

Mourena awoke to the cold of stones, hard and stable, with clean air to breath. Placing a hand on the stones, the chill in the darkness made her shake, being that her person was still wet from the water. Her eyes still unseeing, intense pain emanated from every muscle, Mourena had not known existed. Her instinct told her that she was in complete darkness, and the echoing sound made by footsteps in the distance told her that wherever she was, it was a great deal larger than any building she had ever seen or dreamt about.

She dared not move, and once again she resigned herself to her thoughts. Mourena wondered where she was; perhaps riders of Rohan had rescued her, since they are often known for vanquishing evils in the land. The other prospect seemed like a long forgotten tale, being in the abode of the elves. It seemed too unlikely a thing for her to believe, and so she passed off the thought with little dwelling. "Father," she whispered, "I am sorry I was not there to meet you. I tried to find the entrance again, but I could not see the path. I am sorry." Fighting back the urge to cry, she continued, "I pray you are safe, and do not linger in the darkness looking for me. I am lost here, you are free."

These words offered her little comfort, but she believed that in his heart he would hear it and know. She prayed for the soul of her brother, and wished him well in the afterlife, knowing that she too would join before the next moon. These words within herself she found sleep more welcoming, letting the darkness take her in a warmth of safety and security.

Yet voices spoke in the darkness, echoing down as footsteps followed. The door to her cell opened, but she did not stir, the pain and fever rendered her immobile. Hands grasped her arms, and she cried out as pain burned – the arrow moving in her skin. They said nothing as to where they were going, and Mourena struggled to keep her feet on the floor, her shoes having been lost in the depths of the forest, her bare feet felt the cold of the floor directly to her core.

She heard more voices, the sound of armour and weapons being put down. The smell hit her first; her own ghastly odour of rank musty water and blood reeked in the air compared to the smell of trees, lemongrass and lavender aromas that surrounded her, and she would gladly have traded those scents for her own.

Her chest rattled as she breathed, and her clothes were now dry, but as to her length of duration in the cell she had no idea. Silence seemed to linger on as her feet hit the floor roughly, causing painful vibrations in her body, but she had not the strength to muster a cry.

"I was told you were trespassing in the wood." A voice sounded, a dark tone that should have rendered her frozen in fear, and yet it made her heart burn… any fear that existed was washed away. Moving her head in the direction of the voice, Mourena felt her ears straining for clues as to where she should face. "Tell me, what was your business entering this domain?"

Her voice went dry, her chest rattling in the silence as she found air to speak. "I sought…"She started, wincing in pain as she felt her body pushed down to her knees. "-respite." She gasped, touching her shoulder gently, feeling the sore infected skin.

"Refuge is granted only to those who receive permission." The voice responded, the snake like coldness making its mark on her skin, and she shivered.

"That must prove difficult," she said, moving her head up to the direction of the voice. "begetting the asker survives long enough-" She breathed, "-to gain an audience." She heard him shift in his seat, a disparaging silence lingered.

"And what would you ask of me, _woman?_" He stood, the seeing audience watching as his robes flowed to the floor, barely making a sound as they swept along the stairs. "What can you offer me in return?" It was not so much a question, but a mockery of her situation, she knew.

She listened to his footsteps, his voice burning into her heart like a spell upon its target. "I ask for nothing." Mourena replied, her words steady while her heart raced. "'Twas you whom brought me from that fallible place." His step stopped in front of her and she turned her head in the direction, her ears picking up a multitude of sound.

"How long-" He asked, the slow drawl of his speech lingering in her ears, "-have you been blind?" His face leaned closer to hers, and she breathed in the smell of lemongrass, sweetened with honey and another scent she could not place, encompassed by a deep musk that was his own. For a moment, Mourena thought she saw a figure, with white long hair and eyes that shone in the darkest night flash through her mind, making her curl back slightly, blinking and putting a hand to her face.

"I cannot say." She answered finally, her voice barely more than a whisper, her fingers touching the wound on her head lightly, closing her eyes as pain throbbed in place of thoughts.

"You offer no apology for your insolence." He spoke, and Mourena found herself smiling, her lips curling slightly in the upward direction. "You find this, amusing?" He drawled.

"It is believed-" She replied, her voice rattling, "those who are wronged-" She took a breath and smiled at the Elfish King. "Should be the recipient of such words. I neither know your name nor your crime, but I will accept, when offered-" She took a breath, "- an apology for your short comings."


	4. Voices in the Dark

She lay in the cell, the poison from the wound seeping further into her blood. Her breaths had become more ragged as she drifted in and out of sleep. Mourn knew she had not won any friends by speaking to the man she suspected was the King – the one her mother had spoken of, but another part of her believed it was all a dream, for that is where she saw him. Silver hair and starling blue eyes as deep as the ocean. His smell haunted her thoughts, his image, or the image that had passed through her mind swelled heartily in the darkness, a torch in her agony.

Noise interrupted her thoughts, many voices protesting their fate. As cell doors shut and footsteps fated away, the voiced lingered on. Angry shouts and banging on cell doors followed, echoing throughout. "Ah, it's no use lads. This is no Orc dungeon."

Mourena made herself crawl towards the door, straining her ears against the irons. "Pray, who goes there?" She rasped, her voice small in the darkness.

"Balin, is my name." A voice responded.

"Dwalin."

"Dori."

"Ori."

"Nori."

"Fili."

"Kili."

"Bifur."

"Bombur."

"Bofur."

"Oin."

"Gloin."

Mourena breath rattled, "Where is this place?"

"The Kingdom of the Woodland Elves." The one called Balin answered, "Ruled by King Thranduil." Mourena closed her eyes, _so _he _was the elvish King,_ she thought. "We have told you ours, pray, what is your name, voice in the dark."

"Mourena." She answered, "from the Kingdom of Rohan."

"What brought you to such an end?" Balin asked.

"We were chased-" She rasped, "by creatures I do not know. Fled, into the forest."

"You were offered no aid?" Kili questioned, his voice echoing in the darkness.

"What aid can come in such a place?" She asked, straining for breath. "Pray, does the sun still shine high at noon day?"

"We have not known day from night, since first we entered the forest." Balin said, his voice soft.

"A fate as miserable as my own." She rasped, coughing as her airway felt obstructed.

"Has no attention been paid to you?" Fili asked, his voice obviously concerned. "Surely your wounds have been attended."

"No." She breathed once she forced the cough away, her chest rattling as she pulled herself forward, her fingers against the bars of the door. "My fate…is near …it's end, I fear."

"Surely they will attend to you?" Kili replied, and Balin sighed; it's echo reaching her ears like a symphony.

"I believe my misfortune…does not lie within the forest alone." She managed, "The King …will not...does not... find favour in me."

"Ah, you've met him, have yeh?" Dwalin grumbled, and Mourena wished she had the strength to smile.

"A singularly unpleasant…thing." She whispered, yet it seemed like a shout as she lay there, her words ringing in her ears.

"Aye, you talked to him, did you?" Balin asked softly and she managed a weak yes before relaying the rest of the conversation that had occurred between them. Light laughter seemed to seem through the dungeon, the dwarves feeling proud that someone other than a dwarf dared to stand against him. "That was a brave thing lass."

"I couldn't be prouder if yah were one of my own." Balin admitted, and the dwarves mumbled their approval.

"I can not say…that they share your approval of me." She breathed, feeling dizzy as the image of a white angel flashed through her mind, with robes of green billowing out being him, the glean on his silver hair blinding her in the darkness.

Footsteps could be heard, echoing down the steps of the dungeon. As her cell door swung own, she had not the strength nor the breath to cry out in pain. Her feet dragged behind her, her head slumped forward, the cold of the floor no longer bothered her. A door opened, and Mourena expected to be flung off the battlements, when she was picked up, carried; to placed upon something soft.

Her fingers felt the comfort, but confusion was all the registered. She felt hands removing her clothes, with no energy to protest, and Mourena winced as the arrow was removed from her skin. Warmth came from her own tears, softly falling from her eyes in pain as the elves worked on her wounds. Redressed and laid out, she was covered with a sheet; it felt heavy and warm against her skin. A familiar scent caught her attention, while her own was still foul and rancid, his was still just as sweet, the musky hue embedded within the other hues.

"Leave us." He commanded, and Mourena was aware of footsteps leaving, a door closing - then silence. She moved her head to the side, straining in breath and for sound as she tried to place his movements. She felt a weight upon the bed, startling and quiet. Scanning the room for a sign of life, any noise that would indicate what her punishment would be. She felt a warm hand on her face, cupping her cheek and lifting her head up slightly, "Drink."The deep drawling voice instructed. She felt something smooth against her lips, opening them slightly to find a warm liquid slide easily down her throat. She coughed, the pouring of the liquid stopped, as if the pourer was waiting for her to catch her breath.

The drink was not as foul as she had expected, this dream was perhaps not so sordid. "You are him," she whispered, "-a king of the forest, are you not?" He said nothing, but Mourena guessed he was pleased, the air seemed to swirl with warmth instead of anger. "You are a thing-" The liquid once again poured through her, and she swallowed. "-of myth and legend."

"So, you are not so blind as you seem." He replied coolly, once again putting the vile to her lips.

"I was told stories about this place," She rasped, "-as a child." The liquid met her lips once more, a strange sensation lingered in her stomach, her blood seemed warm again, her lungs slightly freer.

"You are still a child." He replied, setting the vile down and placing her head back upon the pillows. "You years are but a blink of an eye, a mere shadow of a life."

"Why engage yourself with my health?" Mourena asked, once again an image of blue eyes flashed in her head, deep and penetrating. "I have earned no friendship here."

"Indeed." He drawled, not removing his hand from her face, his thumb wiping a tear line off her cheek. "However, you sought refuge and it has been granted." Mourn smiled, not for the sake of respite from her enemies, since that has been granted the moment she had been brought to this dungeon, but for the respite from hardship.

Footsteps in the hall way made her turn her head, the door to the room opened, "My Lord," the elf spoke, "A group of dwarves were found in the forest, the leader is known to you." Thranduil sat up, removing his hand from her face and stood, the weight lifting from the bed. "My lord?"

"Bring him to me." Thranduil drawled, the messenger bowed to his King, moving away rapidly from the doorway. Mourena felt his glance on her, his mind forming thoughts of a certain nature, but which nature she could not tell. His footsteps sounded out of the room, the door closing behind him. Mourena closed her eyes, praying once more for her sight to return before she succumbed to whatever was happening here. She had never considered herself to be a great beauty, but the desire to be clean and smell less foul was strong within her. Moreover, the ability to render herself less foul was entirely dependent on sight, which had been so cruelly taken from her. As sleep came to her, she once more saw the flash of blue eyes and white hair, a crown sitting upon his head, fierce words and burning skin flamed in her mind.

/

She woke without pain or ragged breath, dark eyes opening to the light that surrounded her. She felt her wounds, pain fresh and strong, while the marks had almost healed entirely. She sat up, feeling the thinness of fabric on her skin, was glad of her own solace. Mourena moved her shoulder, testing the waters of mobility and found there to be no pain within her limbs. Smiling, she stood, the air touched her skin causing her to shiver. Making her way to the wall, she ran her fingers over each edge, slowly walking about the room, hoping to find some water to clean her face and body.

The room was spacious, she could not fully make a mental image to incorporate everything she felt and ran into. She found a table, of sorts, with a semblance of food on it, as hungry as her stomach should be, it did not bother her to pass it by for the promise of smelling less of that horrid place. She heard footsteps outside the room and she stilled, her head turning, eyes frantic to the possibility of being discovered.

As the door opened, she tried to make it to the bed as fast as possible, tripping over some unforeseen object and hitting the ground with less grace than the object deserved. She groaned as she rubbed her knee, hands grasping her arms and pulled her to her feet, taking her out of the room amidst her protests. She tried to place which floor, which hall they waked through, to no avail. A door opened, her garments cut away, and she found herself flung into a room with the door swung shut behind her.

Mourn huffed, panting, suddenly aware of the smell in the room. Lavender, lemongrass, and other aromas filled the air, heavy like they had been freshly picked. There was nothing akin to it, yet she knew it had come to her senses once more. She moved forward, walking toward the curious smell, gasping as she mis-stepped - falling into water. She felt the warmth surround her, the movement of the waves above her head coming up for air arms flailing; both in shock and surprise. She did not know how deep it was, but her feet did not touch the bottom without stretching out her toes. Moving sideways she tried to reach the edge, reaching out for the edge, and was met with a hand instead.


	5. Ensnare Me

Thranduil watched her gasp, trying to pull away from the unsuspected contact with another form and smiled, a sight uncommon in recent centuries. He held fast, until she stopped fighting, and drew her to the edge placing her hand upon the tile that adorned it. She felt along, recognition fading into her features in more ways than one. "Who's there?" She asked softly, her voice dreading the answer as much as her core burnt with curiosity.

"Can you not guess," He drawled, watching her shift her head in his direction. "Who helps you on this day." Her mouth opened and shut in silence, the human girl's face turning shades of red that made him want to laugh. In his dreams her pains had tortured him, her cries filled his ears until he could hear them no more. She did not scream or wager physical war against her enemy, but pay him in kind with words fitting a woman beyond her meager years. Thranduil had not asked her name, but he had heard it, echoing through the dungeon on the lips of dwarves. To them, she had been more courteous

"What is your purpose-" The girl asked, pressing her body against the side of the bath, not knowing that the water was rich and dark with minerals that protected her vanity. He stood, watching her as he walked round, her head turning in the direction of his footsteps. "-here?"

"Am I not allowed to walk within my kingdom?" Thranduil countered, a small smile formed on his lips in lingering amusement. As he changed his direction, he removed the outer layer of his robe, letting it fall lightly onto a bed that resided on the far right side of the room. The girl had gone quiet, listening to his movements rather than his words. "I am waiting."

"Entitled as you may be," she responded carefully, pausing when she heard the fabric land on something soft and not all together hollow. "-rebutted but not altogether answered." Thranduil watched her, her pale skin against the floor, her hair dark and clinging to her face while she had neglected to refer to him as my Lord, even once. He removed the last of his tunic, placing it on the bed before removing his footwear. She had been asleep for almost four days and three nights, her wounds well recovered - alas her mind had never been much hindered by her wounds, a strength he respected and disliked.

"Impertinent as you may be," Thranduil countered, walking towards her in his bare feet, wearing now only his breeches and good looks, "I will overlook your slight of tongue, if not only because of the smell of death, which permeates all things." The red crept into her face again, her unseeing eyes looking to where she imagined him to be.

"Skirting the question does not make fast an answer." She replied, almost in a whisper. A sound made in his throat almost made Mourena want to recoil into the depths of the water.

"My answer could not be more clear, if you were to open you ears and listen." He stood near the edge, his feet not far from her hands, which were small, slender things. Her fingers moved slowly, a small gasp emanated from her as she touched his skin. "I will ask you once more." Thranduil spoke, bending down, placing his hands on tile, leaning his face closer to her own as he stepped into the water.

Mourena's mind flashed to their first meeting, - _"What have you to offer me?_" - and she moved away from the movement within the water, pushing herself back from the edge. Her head ducked under the water, and she blinked in the darkness, coming to the surface slowly, listening for movement. "You reek of death." The King uttered, his voice in her ear, an arm securely wrapping itself around her waist. He moved in the water, pulling her along with him, his hand never moving. She shivered, feeling the strength of muscle against her back, her skin forming goosebumps. Thranduil grasped a bottle that sat upon the far side of the pool, a shelf built especially for himself, for it was his personal bathhouse. Uncorking the bottle, he poured the liquid on her head, and Mourena breathed in the smell of lavender and lemongrass in a strange new intensity.

"What is your purpose for doing this?" She whispered once more, her mind scrambling to find logical reasons to explain the man's behaviour. She felt his warmth, his face was not far from her own, his hands grasping bottles that were beyond her reach. The next one smelt of wildflowers, and it foamed as it reached her hair. Thranduil put the bottle back in its place, before placing a cleaning device in her hands, before putting his other hand on her waist, stabilising her. Mourena started to wash her arms slowly, feeling no change in his movements. "My Lord?"

His lips curled upwards slightly, pleased and amused once more leaning forward, the girl froze. "You seem to suffer from the misguided notion that my location is unknown." She turned her head slightly, her profile visible to his eyes, her own face grown red once more, her body shaking. "I may travel as I please from my own chamber"

Mourena swallowed her fear and turned her head back on straight, his confusing actions not being lost on her, for she was aware of the words and that insincerity she suspected motivated him to speak so. Continuing to wash her arms, she felt his grip lesson, she felt more stable in the water; mostly due to the fact she used his feet as a floor. Running her hands over her face, she sighed, not wanting to recall the awful stench she omitted before. She felt his hand on her hair, moving and causing the foam to run down her face, closing her eyes, relaxing as his fingers seemed to gather up all spare locks of her long hair in his hands and massage it clean.

When it was time to rinse off her face and hair, she stepped forward, plunging her body under the water completely. Strong hands pulled her up, and she gasped taking a breath, touching his arm with her hand and nodding, wiping her face with her spare hand and she plunged back down. Thranduil pulled her back up, locking her against his chest as she wiped her face clean. The girl shivered, her body was tired and the lavender was making her sleepy, and she leaned her head back against his shoulder. "If you are quite done defiling the water, woman, would you care to leave?"

Mourena let a small chuckle leave her lips, covering her mouth as she felt the heat rise on her cheeks. Nodding, he walked to nearby to stairs inset in the tile. "I should go behind you." She breathed, lifting her head as her feet felt the lip of the stairs. Thranduil breathed in and held her hand as until she found her footing, the other hand lightly on his waist, and he smiled at her attempt at modesty as they climbed the stairs. Mourena was just glad he could not see her face, for she could feel the heat on her cheeks, and her hands could feel the contour of his muscles as he walked slowly up the stairs. If there was a history of human women falling for elven men simply for their bodies, she was very glad to be blind as a bat, for she was having trouble concentrating as it was.

Keeping a distance between their bodies as they reached the top stair, she let out a sigh of relief and a gasp of cold as the air hit her skin. His hand grasped hers tighter and she stiffened, but kept pace as he walked feeling the cold of the tile beneath her feet. As they reached the bed, he turned his head slightly to the right, keeping his eyes on her face, despite the temptation to look down across her body. Thranduil picked up a robe and grasped it with his hand, spinning quickly encompassing her in it before she registered what happened. Holding the edge of the robe with both hands, he leaned in towards her, her hands clasping the edge of the robe like it was protection. "Dry yourself."


	6. New Friends

Mourena stood frozen, not due to the elf king's need to place his face unnaturally close to her own, but for the fact that she could hear him undressing, an action that caused her thoughts to scramble in the most unpleasant of ways. What did she know of men,was nothing, aside from her father and brother… but he was no man, arguably. Shutting her eyes, which did not provide any relief to the erratic beat of her heart, she turns; so her back was to him, clutching the robe around herself like a child hiding within a tent. She guessed he found the whole thing amusing, since a resounding chuckle echoed throughout the room as proof, but it made a fire burn in her soul, nothing like that soft arousing fire from before. Mourena disliked his piety, his idea of refuge was twisted and incomplete, to be specific; he was toying with her.

"There is no need for you to turn away," His voice drawled, the superior tone made Mourena clenched her teeth. He moved so his figure was facing her, while she refused to look with her decrepit eyes, holding one of the wet garments in his hand. His muscles lean and taunt, chest moving steadily with each breath. "Since you are unable to appreciate the spender presented before you."

"Take me back." She said flatly, her tone loud. "Your idea of refuge irritates and insults me." Thranduil watched her, his smile fading as he saw her back straighten. Dropping the garment, he strode forward, grasping her shoulders with his hands, a snarl forming on his lips. Mourena found her courage, moving her shoulders to shake him off. "I insist you remove yourself from my presence, since you neither speak nor behave like a gentleman."

"You have the audacity to insult your host thrice." He whispered, "I warn you not to try my patience, I am not known to be forgiving." Thranduil squeezed her shoulders, and the girl winced in pain but said nothing, moving her shoulders once more in an attempt to remove him. "I am no man." He hissed, "Do not compare me with such meager beasts, whose sole purpose is to foul the land and desecrate the past."

"I misspoke." She said after a lengthy silence, in which her temper flared, the internal fire as red as her hair. Thranduil loosened his grip on her, the robe moving underneath his fingers where already bruises formed. His icy eyes watched her body language, she neither relaxed nor stiffened at his touch, a change in her behaviour he did not like. In the water this girl had trusted him enough not to harm her, not shuddering away at his touch, a reaction more favourable than what he was seeing now. "Petulant child, lacking both education and refinement, is far more fitting." She expected a slap, a snarl, any outward form of violence toward her, and she braced for it.

Thranduil blinked in surprise, this human woman, barely a woman at that, was not afraid to refute his will and words if it suited her own purpose. _How shall I punish you?_ His fingers took hold on the robe, and he saw her brace for whatever physical punishment he was about to render. With a pull, the robe spun, the girl was caught unaware as she fell forward, or backwards Mourena was not sure which direction was which as her legs twisted around themselves. Her hands reached out, touching flesh, and the world seemed to freeze.

Thranduil watched her, the heat on her face seemed to travel down into her collarbone as her breathed stopped in surprise and fear. A squeak like noise came from her lips as she understood what she touched, and she attempted pulled her hands away, only to have him stop, taking her wrists. His skin was smooth, muscles sculpted under her fingers, even if her hands were forced to linger she did not want to obtain new memories of this person – yet her heart did not protest it. "Tell me, am I more child than man?" He drawled, holding her hands fast rendering escape futile. "Or are your senses so dull that you require further exploration?"

Mourena shook her head, words unable to leave her mouth, one again his eyes flashed in her mind and she turned her head away and gasped, the image to startling and penetrating. "You are trying my patience, -"

"My lord." A voice called, a knock on the door. "You son has returned from the forest and seeks an audience with you." Thranduil shifted his gaze away from the girl, who, truth be told, was very tempted to cry out or run to the door, regardless of the will of the petty King. "What answer shall I give him my lord?"

"I shall meet him in the proper place, within the hour, relay my message thus" Thranduil drawled, fists tightening around his captive's wrist as she writhed to get away. "Gather two female servants and bring them to our guest's room."

"Of course my lord." The elf said, footstep retreating from the door. Mourena let out a sigh of mal content, and the King returned his gaze to her.

Placing her by the bed, he released her hands after sitting her down, before walking over to a trunk seated by the end of the bed, opening it for garments. The girl wrapped herself in the robe, her hands having found it beside her on the bed and it brought her relief. Exhaustion settled in her mind and body from such an ordeal, which was more likely due to over stimulation rather than pure resentment. As he dressed, she turned her face away, pinching herself on her arms to remind her of the situation. While the idea of an elvish King with long hair and eyes of strong blue sapphires was great in her dreams, the reality was; he was a dangerous creature, ensnaring her senses and troubling her heart.

She heard the movement of fabric, the long movement of his silver tunic and robe on his body, and the trunk or chest she imagined him using - closed. He sat next to her, his weight on the bed made her own seat shift, as he put on his boots. Thranduil stood, once fully dressed, approaching her, only to grip one of her wrists, pulled her forward while she resisted. "You wish my servants to come and find you here?" He drawled, and the girl stopped resisting, following his footsteps as he led her down the pathways to her room – holding her wrist far more gently, opening her door and placing her inside - his long fingers seemed to brush against the skin on her shoulders before shutting the door.

Mourena let out the breath she had been holding and sunk to the floor, her knees and mind went weak. "Where did my courage go," She uttered aloud, "To be swayed by such a person, I felt utterly lacking in my resolve." A knock came at the door not a moment later, and Mourena made herself stand. "Come in."

"We have brought you a dress," A lovely sounding voice did say, "May we but put it on?" Mourena nodded, though to what she was unsure.

Two very lovely elf maidens came into the room, all in all - their beauty was wasted on Mourena, but she was appreciative of the gentle touch they offered, and the silence. She was dressed in delicate fabric, she guessed it would be pretty, since elves were rumoured to have very lovely things. She felt the corset and gasped when it was out on; her ribs and lungs were crushed under it, but she could manage. Mourena was given lovely shoes to adorn her feet, as well as something on her neck, which she guessed was a necklace of some kind, size and colour greatly disinterested her.

Her hair, which now smelled heavily of the bath water, had been brushed out, its length nothing new for the elven maidens who attended her. While her hair was made into perfection, Mourena's mind wandered, pondering his motive and mind. His touch lingered on her skin like fire, his eyes seemed to burn within her mind, which was not altogether repulsive. She just wished she could see his face, the expression he wore, the colour of his hair. By now her instincts told her the image in her mind was more than likely fiction, but her heart insisted it was true to his form.

As music of some kind reached her ears, Mourena turned her head, ears straining in the perpetual darkness. "Pray, what is that melody?"

"It is music," One of the maidens replied, and Mourena stifled her desire to state the obvious. "For the feast tonight." Mourena mused on that fact, now coming to the understanding that the shaky feeling in her body was from hunger, a thought that amused her. Malnutrition caused weakness, and she had fainted more often than not when her family had done without. The maids finished her hair, it's natural curl seemed to have been calmed by their elven touch, and they left, leaving the girl with her thoughts when footsteps came back to the open door.

"My lord requests your presence." The elf said.

"What is your name?" Mourena asked, standing from her seat and moving slowly with an outstretched hand.

"Eroiwn." The elf replied, and she heard quick footsteps and a hand touched her own and a rush of relief was felt from the girl. "My lady."

"Mourena, please, I am not deserving of such a title." The girl responded, taking his arm as they walked together from the room.

"The King insisted we refer to you as such, my-" Mourena squeezed his arm, a certain frailty in her responses as they walked.

"Please, Eroiwn." Mourena whispered, "Can we not be friends whilst I am to remain here?" The elf seemed to ponder this, the sound of a weapon on his body could be heard, and he smelt of outdoors, fresh air and tree pollen. He did not have a chance to answer her as they reached their destination.

"We are here." The elf whispered, giving her hand a squeeze as he released her arm. "Do not be afraid, Mourena." He knocked on the door, formally announcing her arrival and she heard the door creak open, and she stepped inside, a hand extended, running her fingers over the carved door. Turned her head, she flashed the Eroiwn a smile, before the door shut behind her and a large hand grasped her own softly.


	7. Of Grapes and Silver

Thranduil grasped her hand, leading her towards the table. He took the time to look at her, from her shoes - well hidden underneath the long fabric - to the dress, a soft silvery blue material that seemed to bring out the red in her hair. He saw she was tall, long legs he had observed in his chambers, but her torso was equally as long, making her waist narrow and her hips alluring, sensual, feminine. He frowned at his own train of thought, he was not attracted to this human child. Her chest swelled with each breath, her full bosom made more evident in the corset, but covered nicely by the set of cloth that now blocked his view of what he had seen earlier. Thranduil could smell the remnants of the bath on her skin, and something else, her own smell, that reminded him of peaches. He was pleased that she was very pretty clean, her red hair a flame that marked her place in the world, contrasted with her pale skin and green eyes, in the candle light they glowed like gems, however trapped in the darkness. Mourena said nothing, she not impressed by his previous behaviour, remaining fully aware of her own powerlessness.

"Wait here," Thranduil drawled, "I will move the chair out for you to sit."

"Forgive me for seeming ignorant," Mourena started, trying to repress the urge to laugh. "But how am I to eat, whatever it is I smell?" She heard the chair being moved back, her question not deterring her host. Her mouth was watering at the smell of the meat, the smell of fresh bread, or something similar. She felt a hand on her lower back, pressing her forward, causing Mourena to turn her head towards the king, breathing in the tapestry of smells. As she moved towards the chair, Thranduil saw her wince as she moved her shoulder, seeing the edge of a bruise on her flesh. A slight twinge of guilt ran through his mind as he moved the chair, helping her sit without falling over. Normally, he would sit at the end of a long table surrounded by fellow elves and toasting, enjoying watching everyone else dance – but tonight he bore no such desire. He sat down, the girl's features indicated surprise and possible shock as her heard place himself to sit next to her. A servant appeared and cut meat, served fruits and wine and lembas to the two before retreating.

Grasping her goblet, Thranduil spoke. "Hold out your hands." The girl did so, as she felt the form of goblet in her hands she brought it high as a toast was offered somewhere outside, and aided by her host, they toasted - bringing the cup to her lips slowly, aware of Thranduil watching her, she imaged much as a predator stalked its prey. She tasted the wine, it was well made, nothing she had ever known compared. Mourena admitted to herself that she had never know wine or alcohol, her father forbade her consume it, making this somewhat dangerous and disobedient. She swallowed, unsure of where to place the item, and continued to drink slowly. She felt heat in her face and she smiled into the goblet, looking into the darkness as to where to put it, as she outstretched one hand to find a place she felt the warmth of his hand as he removed the goblet from her.

"Thank you." Mourena said, shutting her eyes as she felt a rush in her head. Thranduil smiled, his eyes sparkling as he continued to cut her meal in silence. Her face had gone red, and the elven King watched her as the wine made its mark. The girl bit her bottom lip and fidgeted, a technique used to conceal her hungry and inability to obtain her desire.

"Open your lips." Thranduil commanded, and the girl turned her head in his direction, obviously confused. He touched her chin gently, bringing it to the right angle to receive the piece of bread he placed between her lips. Her left hand came to her lips, covering her lips as she chewed the lembas, a slow smile spreading on her face as she started to laugh. Thranduil released her chin, sitting back in his chair, unamused. "What part of this do you find entertaining?"

"I am sorry." Mourena responded, covering her mouth as she could not suppress her laughter. "But the thought of an elvish King hand feeding me... it is too fantastic, it cannot be real." Thranduil watched her, a smile forming on his lips as he thought about her logic, her laughter unsettling some part in his heart, until he too joined in. Mourena's breathe caught at the laugh, it was deep and unaided, like it had not been uttered in an age. They both gradually stopped, the odd chuckle arose out them both as Mourena tried to speak again. "Please, I cannot allow you to feed me in such a way, it is too ridiculous."

"Are we not, in some small way, ridiculous?" He responded, picking up a section of meat and again telling her to open her lips. She giggled, but obeyed, enjoying the food in the small doses as he continued to feed her, despite ongoing protests.

"When are you going to eat?" Mourena asked, after swallowing and taking another drink of wine, with her host's help.

"Who has said I have not been?" He drawled, and she smiled again - no doubt aided by the wine - and shook her head.

"You never answer a question forthright." Mourena said, before taking a fig that was placed in her lips. She turned her head toward a sound outside, cheering and music. She chewed slowly, ignoring the ravenous demands of her stomach. She heard a chair move and she brought her head back towards her host, as her own chair moved backwards. She stood, assuming that being the point and felt his hand on hers.

Thranduil lead her onto a small balcony, so she could fully hear the music below. His kin were dancing, drinking and cheering the dancing on. The girl touched his arm, turning her head toward him and back towards the music as if unsure of what she was hearing. "Why do you not join in with your kin?" Mourena asked, listening intently, a smile and a laugh escaped her lips before he could answer.

"What answer could be more amusing than my own?" He drawled, moving towards her, putting a hand around her waist and holding her hand fast as he took proper form. The girl understood, to an extent, moving within his hold to the music below, which was to her relief rather slow.

"It occurred to me that you may respond by saying you were too old for such parties." Mourena blushed, ducking her head as she fought back a laugh, and Thranduil clenched his jaw, for his answer had been along those lines. They danced slowly, Mourena aware of their closeness as they moved around the small space. When the dance ended, she clapped softly, touching her forehead as she became dizzy.

Thranduil held her elbow fast, aware he had allowed her to consume too much wine for a creature so small and young – and human. Her hand touched his own, and she made a face filled with loneliness. "You have advantage over me," She said softly, "You have seen my face, while I am unable to do so." Thranduil watched her, as she turned her head back towards the music. Grasping her hands softly, he brought them to his face. Mourena gasped softly, understanding what he was offering her.

Her hands moved gently, timidly at first, then with more strength of conviction as she felt every contour of his face. She felt his ears and smiled, her fingers lingering on the tips before running along his jawline. His lips were straight, full and tender and she moved away from that particular area slowly, more slowly than she should have. Mourena had closed her eyes, while the picture formed in her mind, and as her fingers touched the top of his head she smiled, feeling the silk white treads under the touch. She stepped forward, their faces not so far apart, and the girl rose on her toes, running her fingers through his hair. "It _is _long." She whispered, her hands running once more through his hair before resting on his shoulders, since she could reach no farther.

Thranduil watched her, their noses only centimetres away from one another if she only turned. The girl seemed to have guessed this, for she stopped moving, turning her head slightly toward him, until their noses touched and a breath held, captured within her lungs. His own hand touched her hair, the soft and silky mane of a caged lioness, and he; the lion tamer. Or possibly the fool who walked too close to the cage. His other hand touched her jawline, and Mourena could see the image that had been the cause of many heart tremors. She let out the breath, swaying slightly as the wine worked its way further into her system. Instantly, the king held her face to him, her head resting on his shoulder – as if it was meant to.

"Father," A voice spoke, an elf entering through the door. In her mind flashed an image that struck her. Like the tall, albeit dangerous and temperamental, creature next to her; this elf was different. In her mind, he was tall — as tall as his father if not more — with a wide jawline and shoulders that carried the weight of the kingdom; if not the world. Eyes of the darkest, stormy, grey seemed to bore their way into her mind. Within those orbs lay a determination that mirrored the elf beside in more ways than one. Even in her mind she could feel the physical power within his muscles - within his mind. "Why do you not-" The voice stopped, the face in her head gave his father was a mixture of surprise and contempt. "-join us below."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed, a cold chill entering Mourena's body as she stepped back. She touched her head, smiling and blushing, bowing her head slightly to the newcomer - wherever he was.

"So this is what you were so busy with." The voice spoke again softly. Savagely. He was clearly not impressed.

"Legolas," Thranduil drawled, taking on a dangerous tone stepping towards his son as Mourena leaned against the balcony edge. She had heard this name in passing, when whispers had been believed not to be overheard.

"A half a barrel of wine?" Legolas asked, looking at which goblets had lingering liquid in them. "Too much perhaps." he growled, looking at his father's companion. "I wonder how that happened." The silence that followed deafening as it was oppressive, as if a dark spirit has entered the room, now sitting on her shoulders.

With a few strides the tall, regal elf Prince reached Mourena, taking her hand as confusion rushing to her features. "You must forgive my father, he does not often drink with human kind, and the wine is strong." Offering no reply, Mourena remained mute as Legolas pulled her closer. "Allow me." he whispered, easing her forward; walking her back into the room. She knew, rather than assumed, they were headed for the door.


	8. Of Names and Titles

Mourena touched her 'rescuers' arm, unsure how to address him. "My lord," She said softy, "Pray, may I take in the music. It feels like an age since I heard sweet things." They stopped walking, the path they took did not venture must past Thranduil, Mourena could smell him still.

"Would you come feast with us?" Legolas asked, his voice less insulting than his father's and far times in more possession of kindness.

"I would not dare." She responded, touching her eyes. "I am much more comfortable here." She could not see the smile he offered her, nor the pained look on his face when his father spoke.

"You see, my son, all is well." Thranduil drawled, stepping closer, his tone dangerously civil. "Go, rejoin our kin and feast." Legolas bowed his head, released Mourena and walked out. Thranduill, however, was far from amused. This girl had so blindly called his son _my lord_ and yet did not reserve the same respect for him. His eyes scanned the girl's face, which was waiting, listening to the sounds of the room, and for footsteps in the hall. The silence grew, and the girl looked down and closed her eyes, the room swaying for her momentarily. She felt his hand, coming to rest on the she small of her back, pushing her eyes to open and looking towards the direction she believed him to be.

"You are toying with me." She stated, the flush on her cheeks returning, letting out a shaky breath.

"It is you, who are toying with me." Thranduil responded, touching a strand of her hair. 'You so invitingly ask servants to call you by your name, to disregard any formal language-" His deep voice seemed to slither down every vein in her body, and she looked away, begging in her mind that Legolas would return. She did not enjoy being tormented - this side of the king she did not like. "-to be your friend. Have not I offered you everything, food, clothing,-" He grasped her chin, turning her face to his, "-even sanctuary."

Mourena's lips parted as her brain, fuzzy and not proficient at understanding, came to a viable conclusion, the King was jealous. It seemed ludicrous, childish, but childish behaviour often times emerges in the best of men, or so her father would say; mostly when her brother complained of being ill favored towards his sister. Thranduil was talking, his voice was off as her brain reached its conclusion.

"You respond with humility and kindness to these strangers, yet offer not of it to me. I am not so great, that I cannot be extended the same courtesy? Is my own son, so far above me, that he is lord and master over all the realm." Thranduil drawled, his face closer and closer to the girl's, whose lips were trying hard to curl into a smile. "Your reactions are wanting." He said flatly, his humour reaching the end of its line.

"You are jealous." She uttered, too quickly for her brain to realize what her lips had uttered in thought and thought alone. She was already tempting fate, and she covered her mouth as she said it, feeling his wrath emanate from him like shadow.

"You would make a mockery of me?" He drawled, grasping the hand of girl who dared to speak so unguardedly. "After everything I have given to you, you still insult me."

"The wine, sir, please, I am not myself."

"Were you not yourself earlier, when you spoke with so forwardly about my behaviour. I believe you called me a child." Thranduil growled, causing her to make a noise rendering her in pain, causing him to look sharply at her wrist, held in his own hand, which looked on the verge of breaking. "I am of sound mind, girl, I can send you back to the cells. Your life is merely a second within mine, your death will come and go before I have aged."

"You are too callous." Mourena said, her lips turning into a frown and she put a hand on his chest, leaning in towards him. "You ask them to call me by a title I can never own; you say I am but a sliver of a woman, but insist to a title which I can never own. Let me be, no entitlements. Such strange titles hinder me, and I cannot be myself." She trembled from fear, the first time she truly felt afraid of him. This great creature whose good humour seemed to have a shorter leash than the bad. "As for titles, what is appropriate to call the King, no one here calls you by your title, no one here calls you by your name. What is one to call a king who remains with a human girl half naked in a bath without dealing some sort of injustice? The whole things reeks of impropriety."

"You would call me nothing." He snarled.

"I would call you my friend, if you would but let me. You have neither asked for my name nor friendship in any way, despite offering things which I have not asked for." She responded putting her head on his chest, risking his fury as her brain seemed to swirl. "I was resigned to my own death, and glad of it. It was you, sir, that saved me, and while feeling of gratefulness exist, I cannot pretend that I do understand your actions, since you insist on torturing me so." Thranduil listened; her words were heard, causing the frosting of anger and pain to cease across his vision. He let go of her wrist, causing the girl to clasp it tightly to her chest, pain throbbing within it. She whimpered, instead of letting her tears fall, touching the bruising flesh. The hand that rested in the small of her back pulled her closer, "You frighten me so." She whispered, "I am not afraid when you are near, but your very nearness frightens me. Craziness must be abound, for in my head I can see your eyes, and they burn sapphire, bright and deep like fire."

Thranduil wrapped his arms around her, his eyes boring into the wall at his own foolishness. His anger had been fueled by the very cause she spoke of, her honesty drove him mad, and his heart acted in ways he had not known for many years. Dare he say he felt the same as she, her eyes burned the same in his mind? "Come." He drawled, taking her arm in his, opening the door. Striding, rather than walking along the inner halls, they remained in silence until they stopped - reaching a door. Twas large, heavy and grand, casting a shadow over all who entered, and he signalled it to be opened.

As they stepped out, Mourena felt the sun on her face, drying her tears and bringing a smile to her face. This girl, whose smile so transfixed him, outstretched her hand to the rising sun like a child first given in to air. Her grip on his arm loosened, like a starling about to fly, and she turned to face him. "Thank you, my lord." She spoke, placing her hand on his chest briefly, removing it in case other eyes were watching. "To feel the sun once more. Truly a blessing."

Footsteps behind them caused Mourena to turn her head, Eroiwn approached. "My lord, the prisoners-" the elf paused, taking in the sight of the girl and his King, linked arm in arm. "-have escaped." Thranduil turned, passing the girl to his servant with little remorse.

"Return her." He commanded, his robe moving in the wind as he walked back inside, anger wafting through the halls as he made his way to the throne room.


	9. Of War and Fair

**So, I am not going to follow the movie here (aside from using orcs instead of goblins), because Tauriel does not exist in Tolkien's work, and I think that Legolas would have different motives for wanting to fight, since it is his father that ends him to aid the World of Men during the rise of Sauron at the end of the third age. However the movie was all like, Legolas come and do CGI fights that are nothing than a money sucking technique used to sell the movies.(Snarl, pant, hiss, sigh)**

**SO now you know how I feel about the Hobbit, considering how much I love to be a book nerd (I do research before each chapter via the books and outside references to piece everything together), please don't dislike my work based on that, because the Thranduil I am piecing together from a variety of places, including Lee Pace's portrayal of the elven King. Based on this, it is important to note that the return of Sauron occurred in T.A 1050 and the events in the hobbit occurred in T.A. 2941, so an age in between. Thranduil is not like, 600 years old, he's like 2000 yeas old; because he battle in the Wars of the Last Alliance in the Second Age. The War of the Ring occurred T.A 3009, roughly (don't quote me).**

"Father." Legolas said, stepping into the room. "They have crossed beyond our borders, an orc pack not far behind them." Thranduil stood at the bottom of staircase that embraced his throne, he listened as anger rose within him; those fools would surely perish under dragon fire. If, and a very large if, they survived they owed him and his kin. "We should follow them, these orcs should not be allowed to cross our borders so easily."

"We will not." Thranduil drawled, turning to face his son. "The dwarves are outside of my control, as is their fate."

"Then we condemn the city of Laketown to ruin, lest they awake the dragon." Legolas responded, standing his ground, his hand on his belt. "How can we sit by and be idle?"

"I gave them food and drink, and they repaid my kindness by insulting and degrading my halls." Thranduil approached his son, meeting his eyes with a steely gaze. "The world of men is never far from wrack and ruin, I will not spill the blood of my kin on those whose lives rest feebly within the fate of others." The silence did not linger, the intensity between the two bristled and rose keeping other elves at bay. "I have seen the useless waste of life split in the name of a cause so great, even you cannot imagine its ferocity and terror. The last 600 years have not been spent lingering in shadow, but recouping from losses to great to recover from."

"That is exactly why we must fight." Legolas argued. "Orcs are travelling across our lands more frequently, something that has not happened in such magnitude. Our numbers may be a shadow of what might have been, but they may grow smaller still if we don't engage in the world around us."

"Do you think you know better than I, the foolishness of greed?" Thranduil circled his son, his voice encased in a deep snarl. "It was not just man that will become blinded within the world, all races are fallible, lusting after greed and power." The King straightened, walking toward the start of the hall. "We double patrols on the borders. Send messengers out, reporting only that which is important."

"And what about the human girl?" Legolas questioned, "Is she fallible? Or is it you, that are lusting after such a creature." Thranduil turned, his eyes piercing, his lips forming a thin line as his son continued. "You think I cannot see or hear. I could smell you on her. I did not think you would so involve yourself with an _atani_."

"It is pointless to fear for me." Thranduil drawled, his head held high. "What can such a creature but cause a moment's chaos?"

"I do not fear, except for her." Legolas countered. "Her nature and gestures do not indicate any meanness of spirit, but she can have no knowledge of the male sex. She is a child."

"What monstrous things do you believe me capable of, Legolas." Thranduil asked, his voice softening to the man Legolas had known for the majority of his life. "Is it impossible that my actions and beliefs are untrue?"

"You would choose mortality?" Legolas questioned, the shock clear in his voice. "Would you truly take leave of your thrown to spend but a handful of years with her - to see her die and unable to return to your side in death? Or do you seek a less fortuitous fate for her within these walls?" Would his father abandon his throne to live his life with a creature whose years would never come close to what the King had already lived and would live? Was it possible that he was considering leaving his responsibilities aside for this girl?

"I have chosen nothing." The King stated, turning on his heel and walking out of the room, his robes billowing out behind him as he made his way to the forest. He walked until he could no longer hear the sounds within his halls, the peace of the forest entangling into his senses. The forest was always his first love, his total emergence within the peace the wood offered. To the fareast and south, towards Dol Gu'dur, the wood was sick, it's temper becoming as rash and ill. Sometimes he felt reflected within the forest, the dark death that swept over the borders of his lands like a slow poison within his heart.

He touched the bark of a nearby tree, breathing with it, absorbing its malcontent and fear of what may come. He thought back to the end of the Second Age, a great battle long ago within which he fought long ago as a young and inexperienced creature. He had suffered the loss of his father, and been left to rule the Greenwood with no guidance, no mentor outside Lord Elrond in Rivendell, whose sheer distance was too great to endure the journey. He once, like his son, had sound the desire to fight alongside allies towards a common foe and he had witnessed the slaughter of his kin.

He glanced over the leaves, he saw the hint of red merging with the green on some of the leaves, indicating fall was looming closer. It brought the girl to his head, the affect she had on his mind and heart was more puzzling than the notion of Thorin retaking the mountain. Dwarvish greed was predictable, but matters of the heart required much more meditation.

* * *

Hours had passed, first in boredom; but respite was found in more than just the arms of an ill tempered King.

Mourena stood in a room filled with weapons, Eroiwn standing behind her educating her on a good fighting stance. He talked of balance, touching her hip to move her leg as he explained in a way she could use without the use of her eyes. Eroiwn was by no means a "high" ranking elf, he was skilled as any in combat. He was tall, not as tall as the King, but a substantial height above her own. He would be described as dark haired, chestnut hair flowing down his back, with green eyes like her own.

She tried to absorb the knowledge, remembering the movements as he showed them with as much grace as she could muster. He gave her no weapon, which all in all probably a sign of forethought given her capacity to bump into things in the current state. "You have not the elven eye to see, so you must use your ears keenly. Feel and hear the pressure of the air, the movements making wind and stirring leaves and grass.

Mourena chuckled, moving her arms as he directed, "Proved that I don't trip and fall on the opponent's sword."

"The idea is too fantastic to consider." Eroiwn responded, touching her hip so she moved into a more balanced stance. "However, with your currently posture anything is possible." He tapped her calf with his shin, moving her leg forward. "You must remained inline or else attempt at balance is futile."

"Pray, do you infer I could not hold my own in the height of battle?" Mourena asked, a smiling revealing her true feelings on the subject as she tried to keep her tone remain slighted. She practised a certain arm movement once more, hearing a chuckle.

"Focusing on remaining upright, then focus can be applied elsewhere." Eroiwn replied, "Until then, my-" She cleared her throat for a fake semblance of authority. "Mourena, why don't we switch to a different tactic. I fear hand to hand combat is not favorable."

"Agreed." She responded, standing up right. "I do understand why you all are so agile. I believe I have been rendered unable to stand properly."

"Do not be disheartened." Eroiwn said, "It took me at least half an age before I ceased hurting from training." Mourena laughed, causing looks from other elves in the room to which she was oblivious. The elf smiled, raising her arms to the level of her breast, instructing her on how a bow would be held. "The importance lies with practice."

"I fear I do not have the same luxury of time as you." Mourena responded, practising the movement as she listened to the rest his directions with an ill content eating at her heart. "Can elves hear through walls?"

"No." Eroiwn replied, fixing her stance yet again.

"What does it mean to be elvish, in nature? Not in biological determination. No one really questions longevity of life or potentials of mortality."

"Mortality is, by definition, the defining feature between our races. However true our eminent mortality is," He replied, moving her chin to the correct position as she practised the movement once more. "-it centers, for us, around being able to return home, to the lands from which we came, either while we live, or when our souls are called back. Our living abilities are nothing, if not put to good use."

"Very eloquently said." Mourena replied, "Contemplation and understanding seem to come easily to you."

"Customs and practises hold meaning in interactions of the everyday, but the meaning to which we live are fundamentally important, for all creatures." Eroiwn replied, "I preferred knowledge to combat."

"And now?" She asked, breaking from her stance to lean into her own hand, the swaying world beneath her feet had not ceased, even though now seemed like an age since she had been next to the King. Eroiwn's arms steadied her, watching her as she regained her composure.

"Combat is as necessary as it is useful." He spoke, feeling the palm of her hand as she regained her stance.

"I can hear whispers about battle." She said, leaning into him for support as she tried to imagine a real bow. "Will you fight beside me?" The elf smiled and nodded into the air as he said nothing in reply. He stepped away, and she stood straight, hearing movement and clunking as he returned.

"Here." Eroiwn said, placing the bow in her hands, and she pulled back the string wobbling at the intensity of the instrument. "Remember, keep your weight balanced at your core,-" He explained once more, touching her stomach area and pushing it towards her ribs. "Control your breathing, let it become as one with the wind and your target. Feel your heartbeat slow as you breathe." She tried, listening the noises of the room, the faint smell of lavender and lemongrass, the metal of practise and movement of feet. She took a breath and raised her arm, as she let fly the arrow - a dull _thwap_ as it fell to the ground in a way most pathetic. Mourena heard the elf chuckle beside her. "If we fight, my friend, safety will be with the enemy."

Mourena eased the tension on the string and laughed softly, her shoulder shaking from wine and sleep deprivation. The high noon day sun was out in the school, far above the underground chamber in which they stood. "I did not know elves could be so humorous."

"One day spent with an elf, and you assume you know all." Eroiwn replied, taking the bow from her hands. "How very human." He smiled as he placed the bow back in its place, the girl covering a smile on her own face. As he reproached her, her head was turned upwards as if she saw something in the high rafters. "What thing do you see?"

"I can not say. Merely a shadow in my mind, a shadow of hope or a shadow of great peril…. I do not know that I escaped my fate." She replied softly, and Eroiwn watched her carefully. Some humans had little beauty, some had great beauty with no perception of other equally lovely features. He knew not if this girl was what could be described as beautiful, the red hair was like a beacon within a dimly lit sky while her eyes, while unseeing, haunting spoke of expression such a young human should not know. Yet she was no one, no importance did she play, and her usefulness was limited. Her pull of naivety remained, though that aspect alone was not enough. "Is it possible my father survived the attack?" She whispered.

"I do not know." He responded, offering her his arm. "Many things are possible in this world."

"Would it be wrong to hold out such hope?" Mourena asked, lowering her head as she posed her question.

"Never." He answered, walking towards the door. Mourena thanked him, her heart slightly lifted, but the threat of imposing doom within her soul could not be so easily removed.


	10. Right or Left

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She could not sleep, if her body was tired, it did not seemed not to inform her other organs, which insisted in keeping her up. She stood, near the bed, her dress somewhere, placed by servants in some unknown and hidden region of the room. She wore a white silvery gown, a light lilac undergrown clung to her curves while the flowy exterior made her feel whimsical. Mourena rapped her fingers on her arm, it had been hours since she had been sent back to her room. A little feeling told her a certain someone had been watching the whole episode in the weapons room. The King had just appeared, asked very very politely why the 'guest' was not in her room and then walked away. No sense of meanness, no sudden outbursts, just calm and collected. Which meant that there was something very wrong, or he had an identical brother who wandered the halls and acted like a very nice elf. Mourena scoffed, _Chances of that are slim._

On the other hand, she wanted to go back outside, the thought of moonlight was soothing. She was testing her courage, to find her way in the dark. Were the chances of success worth being under an orb she could not see, but merely feel with all her might? She nodded, making her decision to go, and started fumbling around for something to place on her shoulders. Finding a robe, or what she thought was one, she placed it around her torso. Opening her door, without a sound which pleased her greatly, she stepped out closing her eyes to try and remember the direction. They had taken a million turns and halls, pathways and other things her brain was swimming to remember. _Left. Right. Two rights? _She muttered under her breath, standing there like a frozen doll. "Perfection, blind as bat, chances of walking off a hallway-" She sighed, "-high."

She moved slowly, retracing her steps as best she could while taking slow steady breaths. She could tell she was near the edge, feeling the fear of falling kicking in. She moved to the right, feeling much more stable as she made her way along. The terror of falling was nothing to the thrill and relief of making it safely to the other side. She sighed, leaning against the wall like she had flown down from clouds. Touching the wall, she didn't know this was meant she was to go left or right, but she nodded to herself and started walking to the next hallway.

Mourena walked for what felt like forever, trying to prevent falling the majority of the time. As she made her way, somewhere, direction at this point came from any perspective and was lost on her utter backwards and frontwards choice of movement; circles had better chances of ended at their destinations. As she walked she got used to the high feeling, the sound of her bare feet on the floor made it less frightening. Using her toes to gauge her edges, she walked a tad faster, gaining confidence from the desire to see the moon.

She was in the middle of a hall, she knew, the slight upwards slope peaked for a few steps before descending back down. She enjoyed this part, the evidence of her journeys in some small way, going up only to go down once more. Not profound by any means, but it made a small part of her feel accomplished to have gotten so far on her own, so soon after adjusting to her blindness. Taking her step, she placed her foot down and the air beneath her spun, her judgement misguided, the darkness surrounding her with gentle and warm embrace. That feeling of falling, whereby your ankle becomes transfixed, like a mark upon a steady surface, while the rest of the body disconnects, toppling to the side and backwards, arms going backwards to break the fall, however fruitless. It was this feeling, that wretched slow motion surrounding every muscle in the dark that Mourena felt, her own stupidity screaming in her mind as she closed her eyes, embracing the thought of only one person.

It was then, like a flash, a hand took hold upon her arm, pulling up, her whole body suddenly surrounded by warmth, the flow of robes and strength all encompassing. There was a long pause, a period of adjustment when she could feel within her heart of hearts that she was; not dreaming and, alas, not dead. Her heart raced like a frightened deer, her breathe ragged as she pondered what, or whom had saved her from such a fate. Taking a deep breath, Mourena relaxed into his body, allowing his senses to disguise her own. The familiar smell brought calm to her panicked heart, and she was aware of her face, buried within the nap of a neck, the smells all too strong and amiable. Her hands had found their way to his arms, her own trembling, on the muscles that had just now pulled her from the depths. His arms had tightly fastened around her, his robe protecting and embracing the girl.

He said nothing, bending down and lifting the girl off her feet, swiftly moving from the place in which they stood. Something in her told her to protest, to talk rationally and explain, but words seemed to fall short of an explanation. Opening a door with one hand, she was not entirely aware of which room it was, a blessing and a curse in her mind's eye. He must have kicked the door shut with his foot, it still made no sound. The path to the bed was long by Mourena's standards, and she found herself in a position of having to let go, but not wanting to for an instant. She felt her feet touch the ground, and she felt his hand on her back, touching her waist lightly, the other on her hair, an almost soothing motion. She shivered, moving her nose further into his neck and taking in the scent, and she could feel him backing away.

Her fingers clasped around his arms, stepping into his body, placing her nose into the crook of his neck with gentle touch. Her heart was so bold, so daring, while her mind recoiled with fear of the unknown. She moved her hands, removing the left one from his arm and slowly placing it on his neck, the ends of her fingers on his jaw line. Her right hand moved like it was detached from her body, coming to rest upon the small of his back, fingers spread to try and encompass the area without seeming so small and insignificant. She felt the rest her body against him, her mind blaring that this was severely improper and wanting in behaviour, but she cared not. This moment vanquished an inner storm, a raging gale that his touch alone could help her weather.

Mourena took a breath, trying not to lose her courage now, just as it gained the momentum. The shock of the moment leaving, a momentary paused in her actions, her body letting all semblance of control fade, rending her touch almost ghost like. His arms steadied her, his hand seemed to encase her, not like a child, but as a creature whose hurt matched his own. Her lips slighting parting in a fleeting whisper. "Thranduil."


	11. Little Bird

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Thranduil woke, an unnatural peace in his slumber, his long hair cascading over the pillows. He did not open his eyes, a slight figure in his arms seem almost a dream. The length of red surrounding them both belonged to the girl. His chest was bare under the sheets, the smell of his chamber wafting through every place it touched, but all seemed mute but for the head that rested on his heart. Her one hand sprawled on his shoulder, almost like a child refusing to let go, and yet it was an honest hand. She had taken him by surprise.

_He had not expected to see her walking out within his kingdom, and his heart had skipped a beat in fear for her life more than once as she made her way. He had followed at a safe distance, watching her, his own sleepless soul wandering. He not her purpose for wandering so aimlessly in the dark, but he had rushed immediately, his heart had not felt such panic since the day his own son had taken to wandering the same halls in the early days._

In the present, he ran a hand softly over her hair, feeling the swell of her chest against his own ribcage. She had seemed as frightened as a bird, so weightless and timid, yet she had paralyzed him, rendering unable to think, move and breathe when she finally spoke his name. His blue eyes blazed into the floor, utterly transfixed. He wanted her, for they were two creatures who seemed bound to want each other, but he could not bring himself to touch her beyond what contact already existed. So he had held her, breathing with her in rhythm. Her touch did not waver and when she had whispered his name, it hung in the air, like it had been freshly spoken.

_After what seemed to be an age, he cupped her face, causing the bird to remove its face from its hiding spot. The green eyes had watched him so completely, unsure where to look or what he was feeling. In that moment, with this girl of red hair and blind sight, he knew it was his turn to summon his own courage. He allowed his eyes to roam her face, their bodies still touching. He cared little for what garments she wore, or wasn't being the case. Thranduil did not allow his eyes to wander further than her collarbone, and back again, lingering on those lips which had just uttered his name. _You would choose mortality?_ The words flashed across the back of his mind, fighting with his own moral plane and that of which his heart was leading him. _

_True, his heart would leap to spend time by her side – in a world far beyond the walls of this kingdom. He, the King of the elves, thinking of abandoning his post for a human… a girl that set his heart and soul afire that made him feel alive once more. What a sweet temptation she was, her honesty and youth were a world away from the tenor of his mind, and yet he yearned for her._

_Watching her face, Thranduil felt there was no choice to be made. He lowered, his lips touching hers like a feather touches air, an immediate fire burned in them both. His hand moved so it embraced the back of her head, his other hand remaining securing around her waist and strengthening. Mourena seemed to shake, with pure excitement and some waylaid terror. Her eyes closed, Mourena seeing the familiar face that had danced in her dreams, now clear in her mind._

_Thranduil gripped her head, deepening the kiss as he felt her fingers curl gently around his jaw line, touching his cheek, leaning into the kiss. The hand on his lower back flexed, taking in the scope of his muscle as both elf and girl remained fixed. A low growl in his throat emerged as they broke apart, only to rejoin a moment later, both his hands going now to her face, holding her still as he kissed her again. Mourena's other hand came to his face, mimicking his embrace as she pulled away, the power of the kiss flowing through her. Her breathe was ragged, and it very much matched his own, his hands still on her face._

_She allowed her fingers to touch his face, feeling a single spot where a tear must have run down his face. "My lord, why do you cry?" She asked, her fingers wiping it away._

_"Why do you?" Thranduil asked, using his thumb to wipe away a tear than now sprung from her eyes. Mourena found she could not answer him, she had no reason to create such an emotion, other than it was beautiful, something beautiful. In that moment, words were not enough to express the level of clear understanding between them. He kissed her once more, again light, no less devoid of passion. When he pulled away, he placed his forehead on hers, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear._

Mourena groaned, moving her hand like a cat awakening. Thranduil opened his eyes, moving to a sitting position, the girl opened her eyes, lifting her head and sitting up herself, the silver nightgown visible as the blankets fell away. She rubbed her eyes, offering a sleepy smile that was seen by the very watchful eyes. His hand touched her face, gentling wiping sleep off her right eye. "Mourena," He spoke, his voice low and calm. "-do you know the penalty that comes with sneaking into the king's chambers so late at night."

She blinked, confusion flashing across her features. _You would choose mortality?" _That thought returned to him, the king, this timid caged bird sitting still beside him. Would he heal her wounds and set her free, could he send forth this woman, so unnatural for the race of men. "I do not recall such an act." She spoke, her voice nervous as to the sudden change. Maybe she had been correct, he did have brother who shared his looks and smell, and he had rescued her. "Was it not you who brought me here, or a ghost?"

"There is no ghost here." He responded, touching her shoulder. "But is this how you greet your king?" Mourena smiled, cocking her head to one side as she tried to think if she had forgotten anything from the night before that had caused some change in the she addressed him. "You called me by my name last night."

She took a breath, placing her hands in her lap. "Yes,-"

"Do not feel ashamed, little bird," He drawled, his fingers running through her hair, "-it is a common occurrence after the first time." Her face went a deep shade of crimson, her mind aching for a memory, _the_ memory that had been implied and she could not find. His hand smoothed over her cheek as he chuckled, the deep echoing sound in the room. "An elven kiss could render even a grown man faint." Mourena smiled despite herself, turning her face away and hiding her smile. His hand continued to touch her hair, as the elf leaned forward, his face close to hers as she turned back, their noses not far away, the chuckle in his throat still reverberating. "Pray tell me what thoughts can cause such a reaction?"

"I believe you severely over estimate your prowess," She replied, recovering quickly, not letting him gain any advantage. "My lord."

"It seems I have been demoted, yet again. If there no end to your insolence." He questioned, leaning back, the little bird was ruffling her feathers in such a fashion that it would, by extension, ruffle his. Footsteps in the hall caught their attention, a knock coming at the door.

"My Lord, Lord Elrond is on his way here, scouts have report he will be here within the hour." Eroiwn reported. Thranduil narrowed his eyes, leaving the bed and standing.

"Show him into the throne room." He commanded, the slow drawl steely and rich. He walked over to the chest, taking out his garments, laying them at the bed.

"Yes, Aran Thranduil." Eroiwn responded, "Is there anything else, my lord?"

"No," Thrandruil drawled, walking over to the table across the room and pouring himself a glass of wine. "You may leave."

"My Lord." The elf responded, and footsteps retreating from the door. Thranduil drank his glass, watching the girl on the bed, the dark red hair seem to frame her pale silhouette. She was watching him, rather, she was looking in his direction. Thranduil made a mental note to get someone to check her eyes, if his visit with Elrond did not go to long. Putting the glass down, the elf walked back to his garments, and began to dress, the finery of the clothes a sheer marvel.

"I wish I could see you." Mourena said softly, causing the elf to pause and watch the girl for a moment. As he continued to dress, she sighed softly, touching her eyes as if rubbing them would return her sight. He finished dressing, the green and silver of the robes made him regal, the crown made him King. "Shall I go back once you have left?"

"No you may not." Thranduil replied, retrieving one more garment from the chest, laying it on the bed before walking around the side of the bed, taking her hands and walked her to the spot in which he had just been standing. Mourena flushed as he brought the nightdress up over her head, but that flustered notion soon disappeared as a thin layer was placed next over her body, followed by a corset, which his grip on the ties rendered her breathless for much of the day. The dress he placed her in was a deep orange, trimmed with red for autumn, and showing off her body very well. He placed something cold around her neck, and she touched it, a jewel of some kind. "You will be gracing the throne room with your presence."

Mourena turned, feeling the fabric twist around her feet. "Are you not meeting someone important?"

"This is not a request, little bird." He drawled, "I require your presence for today, and so you will be joining me." Mourena should not protest, she knew, and he placed shoes gently on her feet.

"Surely I cannot be entitled to be at such a meeting." She said once more, "Lest not dressed this way, please it is too much." Another thing came into her mind, "I never told you my name."

"I am the King of the Woodland Realm, little bird," he drawled, taking her arm as he opened the door. "There is very little I do not know."


	12. Speak thy Mind

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The spoke very little as they walked towards the throne room, and Thranduil was growing cold, an icy haze seemed to linger between them. Mourena kept pace, she knew being King meant certain obligations, which she assumed meant by no means having romantic connections with a human, publically at least. She found it strange that the place seemed to empty, or at least devoid of sound. The air seemed to change once more, and Mourena found herself to be dizzy, an image strong yet beautiful seeming to enter her mind.

A woman, if she could be called that, tall and radiant, like a diamond within Mourena's world. Her hair shone like a golden mist, her eyes as fierce as a raging sea. Mourena gasped slightly, lowing her head as they neared throne room. The force in her mind lessoned, and the image of another also came. He was regal, dark eyes with long dark hair but lacking all qualities of a man - never more an elf had she seen.

However, there was no one in the room, and she felt relieved in such a strong way, for the force within her mind was far stronger than what she had ever experienced. Thranduil separated from her, waking up the steps to his throne, leaving her below, standing awkwardly. She was aware of footsteps approaching, though Thrandruil said nothing, as his son entered, coming to stand by the wayward guest. While Legolas eyed Mourena and then his father, he pursed his lips, the young prince was not overly impressed with the scene, but he stood beside the girl despite the disapproval. "You look very nice," Legolas spoke softly, "It suits you."

"You do not have to hide your displeasure at my being here, my Lord." She quietly responded, "I am more than aware at the displacement."

"I would not protest if it was just Lord Elrond coming," Legolas responded, "He is a great healer and friend." Mourena looked in his direction, clenching her teeth to prevent them rattling with the sudden chill that came upon her from above. She could not respond, as footsteps marked the arrival of the guests.

"Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond, my Lord." Eroiwn announced, stepping aside to let the guests in, his eyes flickering to Mourena. Thranduil has dressed her in finery, and left her to the wiles of her mind, which had not fully recovered from its injuries. Eroiwn had never before seen the Lady Lothlórien and once he had heard her in his head, he worried for the girl, for it was an unsettling experience.

"Mae g'ovannen," Thranduil drawled, not standing from his throne of antler horns, his head adorned with his crown of startling regality. "Gi nathlam hí. Pray say what brings you here, with such great distance travelled." Legolas offered the two a bow, and Mourena lowered her head, unsure of the proper response. Lord Elrond returned the bow with a curt bow, with half the depth that Legolas offered. The grand lady eyed them both, offered them a knowing smile.

"Surely you, Thranduil, must know what is occurring outside these halls." Lord Elrond started, aware of the presence of the stranger but saying nothing.

"If you mean an idiotic quest involving Thorin Oakenshield, then…. Yes I do." Thranduil drawled, crossing his legs and fearing not to look into the eyes of his distant kin, and one of the Noldor.

"Then you also know that Dol Guldur plays host to a dangerous evil." Lord Elrond spoke, returning the King's gaze. "And it must be vanquished."

Mourena felt out of place, these two elves discussing elements out of her depth. But she tried to focus on the conversation, a message about an evil. "Orcs have been seen, riding across Rohan on Wargs, killing all those within reach. _She_ walks as proof of such things in Rohan." _The girl… _A voice inside the head proclaimed, a slow, all knowing voice it seemed to be. _She has a gift, I think._ "I will not waist the lives of my kin to vanquish an evil that cannot return." Thranduil spoke, "Or is that not what I replied the last time I was paid a visit."

_Her mother,_

"It has returned, after all this time. I would have thought, Thranduil, that you would want to join us, and this this forest of its impurities." Elrond responded, touching on a part that would play keenly on his heart.

_Her father,_

"How, pray, do you intend on vanquishing it, or will you continue to vanquish it, each time it returns." Thranduil growled, "I have long been watching these borders, have felt the sickness of the forest. It has been I protecting these borders."

_They have passed from the land of the living._

"The White Council has agreed, it must be driven out." Elrond spoke, "Before its full strength gathers." Thranduil seemed to go quiet, and an eerie silence followed.

_Do you love her?_

Mourena clenched her teeth, keeping her head tucked something flashed in her mind, and she winced. In it she saw the king's face, turning in surprise as a battle raged on around him, his face seem to contort in pain. She let out a breath, attracting Elrond's attention as Mourena placed a hand on her chest, the corset was tied quiet tightly. Legolas touched her wrist softly, and she nodded, standing back up straight.

_You do._

"So go!" Thranduil snarled, standing, making Mourena's head snap up. "Go to Dol Duldur, vanish his spirit."

_Will you choose mortality? A life away, then gone in but a moment._

"You will not come with us." Elrond stated, "Even though Middle Earth may be pushed on the brink of war?"

_I think not._

"I will decide what goes on here." Thranduil snarled, "The Men of Lakedown will soon drown in Dragonfire, the quest for the mountain will fail. The lives of others are not my concern."

_You are afraid._

"You mean they don't know?" Mourena spoke, stepping forward as her sense of justice hailed down past any sense of propriety, "You would sentence the people of Laketown to their doom?" Thranduil's eyes burned, cold and angry at her, and she could feel it within her mind. "Are you so old that you forget the ilk of kindness, the unsuspecting people of that town deserve to know!"

"How dare you speak to my father in such a way," Legolas whispered, aghast at her words.

"I am afraid we have not been introduced." Lord Elrond said, stepping forward and taking her hand. "I am Lord Elrond of Rivendell."

"I would offer a more polite gesture," She offered, her smile fading as she heard the heavy footsteps of the King, walking down the stairs. "My name-"

"You dare insult me in the wake of my own Kingdom, in front of my kin." Thranduil snarled, his body rich was anger - his shadow a distance away.

"I spoke the truth." Mourena repeated, turning away from addressing the Lord before her. "You cannot ignore your own morality for such a self centered desire. Death fears nothing, not pain nor sleep, and evil does not fear death. You cannot ignore it so easily."

"Get out," Thranduil snarled once more. "Eroiwn, take this creature out of my sight."

Mourena steeled her courage, "It was you, may I remind, that wanted me to be levy to this conversation. How can you be so callous to life?" She responded, "Thranduil, please, do not abandon your reason!" The silence following was painful, and she struggled to breath in the corset and cope with the pain within her head and heart. She had crossed a border, but a border that not crossed would have bothered her heard.

Thranduil made a gesture, and Mourena heard rapid footsteps. Guards, she imagined. "Wait." She said, reaching around her neck to remove the necklace, tossing it on the ground where she imagined his feet to be. She also reached back, undoing the ties on her dress, pulling the fabric over her head with difficulty, throwing it too on the floor. She said nothing, feeling the hands on her arms, ignoring the voice in her head as they took her away.

Thranduil breathed, his backbone straight. Lord Elrond cleared his throat, sharing a soft look with Lady Galadriel. "Well," Elrond spoke.

"That behaviour," Legolas spoke, in the direction of the Lady Galadriel, who had watched the whole scene with soft knowing smile. "You planned this. You wanted to enrage my father-."

"Legolas," Thranduil drawled, "There have been enough words said here."

"You cannot blame her." The lady spoke, and the men turned to look at her. "It is what the both of you would not say. And I doubt it will severely change her fate here." Thranduil eyed with icy composure as he listened to the footsteps receding. No sounds of tears came to his ears.

"If you will not go to Dol Guldur, are you going to ride on the Mountain?" Elrond asked, "Proving they are successful."

"The dwarves owe many, so it might be wise to claim it, if they can slay the dragon." He responded, aware the Lady was still watching him.

"Yet you will not go to Dol Guldur, and vanish Sauron." Elrond said once more. Thranduil looked at him revealing nothing.

"I will not. You have your wizard, is it really necessary to involve anyone else." The King responded, his eyes once more flickering to the dark, the faint footsteps retreating into the darkness. "Eroiwn, I am going with Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel the upper section. Ensure we are not disturbed." He commanded, walking into the darkness in a fury, his robes billowing behind him.

"Bring her," Lady Galadriel spoke, stepping toward Eroiwn and extending her hand, "It is my command." With a smile as she followed her kinfolk, Lord Elrond putting a hand on the young elfling's shoulder, to signal he understood. Legolas disappeared into the darkness, disliking the scene.

As Lord Elrond followed his friend down the path, he could see something glimmering in the distant past. _What do you see?_

"Mithrellas." Lord Elrond replied. "But she has not been seen in almost 900 years."


	13. Of Truth and Hurt

**Please read, review and enjoy! **

She sat in the cell, her arms crossed, her mind pacing and her body cold. Wrong or not in her application of the truth, the message in and of itself was not wrong. Her head throbbed, far more than her heart ached. She had heard a voice inside her head, and it did not matter what she did, that voice did not stop. Beyond that, were the images that flashed in her mind, Thranduil's fury and in that image, the sorrow on his face in her mind's eye - _that image,_ she thought, was not of the past.

"Mourena."

"I am truly going crazy." She whispered.

"Mourena," Eroiwn spoke, "You must come out. Lady Galadriel requested you join them in the upper halls."

"I will not go."

Eroiwn stepped in, taking her arm firmly - pulling her to her feet. "You cannot refuse Lady Galadriel, as much as you may fear the King-

"Fear him?" Mourena said, looking at the elf, or rather in his direction. "I do not fear him." She snorted at the idea. "His decisions are not sound."

"You do not know what he has suffered." The elf said, defending him.

"And what will others suffer?" Mourena asked, "How many more shall have to experience such pain? You talk as if he is the only who has ever suffered loss. How can you disregard the lives of others!?" She barked, it echoed through the hall, and Eroiwn took hold of her hand, dragging her out.

"You will not suffer the same rudeness to the Lady Galadriel." The elf snarled, replacing the dress she had tossed aside earlier. As he cinched the dress, Mourena clenched her teeth, tears welling at her eyes. "Tears can be shed after you apologize." Eroiwn commanded, retrieving a cloth from his robes, using it - he wiped her face, despite her shaking it with vigor. "Mourena, you were wrong to address the King as such. You must understand that, as ignorant as your human education was."

"My mother told me never to come here, I should have listened. I should have died with my father and brother." She repeated, "I should have listened to her."

"The King never should have put you in this position, your wounds are far too fresh, but you spoke ill of turn." Eroiwn said softly, replacing the necklace on her neck. "Pray," He paused. "What was your mother's name?"

"What?" She turned her head, pursing her lips in thought, confusion and wonder. "Whatever brought this on, aren't you supposed to be berating me for horrid human conduct?"

"It is something I wondered, you have not mentioned her." Eroiwn offered an answer, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Her name was Gilmith." She stated flatly, as the elf linked her arm with his to lead her to the upstairs quarters. "What truly brought this on, my friend?"

"Did she look like you?" The elf asked, avoiding the question - watching the girl's sad expression.

"Yes, as much as I can remember." Mourena huffed, letting out a sigh. "She died giving birth to my sister, Elian."

"Difficult business." Eroiwn acknowledged, the girl had her head turned away, lost in time and memory. "Your father must have born it well to raise you." The girl did not answer the question, merely shifting the conversation.

"I heard her voice inside my head." Mourena said. "She asked the same but one."

"She is a powerful creature." Eroiwn replied softly, "A great magic lies within her, a terrible force a her control. But you do not seem to have fallen out of favour." It spoke much that the Lady of Lorien did not disapprove of the outburst, and her persistence of questions within this tempered soul awakened questions for Eroiwn he had not considered.

"Eroiwn," She finally spoke again, stopping a good length from the destination. "Will there be war, tell me true, it is important." The elf thought for a moment, staying silent.

"Not too soon, but yes, there is an ill spreading." Eroiwn answered finally, "I do think war will come before too long." Mourena sighed, not knowing whether she could trust him or not. "Come, they are waiting."

As they entered, she swallowed the rock in her throat, bowing her head. Eroiwn scuttling out the door as soon as he was able, and she had half a mind to call out to the traitorous fiend. Standing in place, blinking as if it would clear her vision, Mourena bit her lip as she swallowed her pride and offered a bow, her hair spilling over her shoulders. "Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond, please forgive my rudeness, I have embarrassed the King within his home as his guest, it is not a reflection on him. I humbly beg first impressions may be undone, nor at least left not renewed in a different kind."

"Please," Lord Elrond spoke, his voice calm as he walked towards her - offering a soothing solace from the troubles at bay, "Pray come and sit down, my dear."

"I fear I cannot.' Mourena replied, not straightening, her hands clasped in front of her, calm as she tried to be. "My Lord Thranduil, please accept my earnest apology for such distasteful conduct." Even without him speaking, she knew he was there. Silence lingered and she did not move, taking breaths by force so she did not faint. She felt a hand on her own and she followed its direction, which led to a seat, her companion to be Lord Elrond.

"Your name is Mourena, is it not?" Lord Elrond asked, watching Thranduil, who refused to turn around from his position staring at the wall, he had received a curt scolding from the Great Lady and refused to acknowledge his own part in the whole thing.

"That is not your real name," Lady Galadriel spoke, watching the girl, who smiled sheepishly.

"No, it is not." Mourena admitted, feeling a soft hand on her shoulder, another on her head, where she had hit it an unknown number weeks ago. "My father changed it after my mother passed." Lord Elrond watched Thranduil turn his head to the side slightly, a curious smile resting on the corners of his lips.

"May I call you by it?" Lady Galadriel asked, her voice soft and smooth - like molten gold - her eyes burning into the girl's. Mourena felt backed into a corner, parts of her wanted to refute; but this was easier than fending off the voice from inside her head - which was indeed the Lady present here. Lord Elrond's hands touched where her wounds had lain, and studied the bruises as they showed dark on her skin.

"Of course, my Lady, it is Imídel." She responded, her voice flat. A name she had not been called for as long as she could remember.

"What was your father's name?" Galadriel asked, giving a smile to Thranduil, who had turned around finally, internally pouting like a child as she stood studying the curious girl sitting with his kin - distant or not.

"Amídel." She replied, pulling away from Lord Elrond's hand to wipe away the brewing tears. "Please, I must beg for a reprieve. I do not like talking of the dead."

"Man acáriel. the shock is still too near." Elrond said, watching her expressions which were honest and open, she wore her life on her sleeve, "I do believe your eyes to be healable, so if you will allow me, when we return from Dol Guldor I shall attend to this." He smiled, the girl uttered her thanks and ducked her head.

"There is no need.' Thranduil spoke, "I have already prepared the necessary arrangements." Lord Elrond bowed his head and smiled, Lady Galadriel gave Thranduil a knowing smile.

"Nás sarna." Elrond rebutted, "It is necessary to tend to this soon, and by someone proficient."

"The Great Hall is ready," Thranduil drawled, not replying to the Quenya spoken in his Kingdom. "Shall we all go down?"

* * *

Mourena walked in silence, the arm shared was held in distain, so she kept her lips tight and her head turned away - not allowing the smell to overwhelm her or distract her. Thranduil watched her, only out of the corner of his eye, aware that Lady Galadriel more than enjoyed his discomfort. He found it strange that this creature, Imίdel, might be called by such a different name, Mourena bore no resemblance to it. Imίdel was more like her in elegance, but Mourena seemed to match the fact she was like a small bird, trapped in a cage. The more he learned, the more bird like she seemed.

"I would like to be excused from this." Mourena said at last. "I am unable to perform this task unaided, and I have already suffered you enough embarrassment." Thranduil smiled, turning towards her, looking back at his guests.

"Then I shall have the pleasure of aiding you." Thranduil responded, his voice cool and pleasant. Mourena sighed once more, pushing down the internal growl. The place was huge, sounds echoed as the place filled with elves, where she sat at the right hand side of the King, wanting to be back in the cells. _Your mother's name,_ a voice spoke in her head, _what was it?_

_Gilmith, my Lady._

Mourena said nothing, staring into space as elves talked around her. Her head throbbed, Galadriel asking questions, or talking in riddles she didn't understand. She touched the corset once more, it was terribly hard to breath as images danced inside her head. She saw Thranduil once more, surrounded by orcs and men, his face contorted in pain and sadness, cries going out all around him as dust and death rose in the air behind him

_Imίdel, what did you see?_

_Comprehension is muddled by a lack of understanding, but I saw death. And much of it._

Mourena looked at the elf, whose eyes seemed to burn with understanding. The elf witch sat across the table, but the girl did not know that. She shook her head and regained her composure, hearing the King walk in, from wherever he had gone to.

"My friends, we have the honour of having the Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond to dine with us. It is indeed a blessing and an honour." Thranduil drawled, lifting a goblet in the air, someone had kindly placed a goblet in her hand, with which she suspected Thranduil, and the group cheered - drinking just as the King kept on. "And, we have the lovely Mourena, who is gracing us from the lands of Rohan, with many intellectual talents, yet alas, lacks any form of sight, has graciously endowed herself to me, as lord and master." Mourena nearly choked as she drank, hearing him sit down, she could not even imagine the pleased grin on his face.


	14. Of Apologies and Pride

**Here ya go! Thank you so so so much for each and every review! Please read, review and enjoy! Goodnight world!**

She made a clicking sound with her lips, pacing in her chamber. Eroiwn stood by her, a smile in place despite the anger flowing off the woman in front of him. Thranduil's announcement had not gone unnoticed, which was unfortunate for Mourena, since now the practically everyone important now believed her to be pledged in honour to him, for however long her life might be. Eroiwn suspected that the King was acting of spite, he was known for it, but he also suspected it was for ulterior motives. He had smelt traces of the King's on Mourena, especially on her clothes - and then there had been the incident of the girl being within his bed chamber.

She huffed, tripping on the hem of the dress and toppling, Eroiwn extending a hand to catch her, but she huffed once more and stood again, rasping for breathe. "Corset." She breathed, pointing at her ribcage, and Eroiwn nodded, undoing the ties of the dress and helping her remove it, although he was careful to lay it out. As his fingers raced to undo the corset, he was aware of her physical presence, frazzled and undone, she was still ravishing. "Your temper is as your hair." The elf said, amused, "And to think, all that might have gone unnoticed under all your composure."

Mourena covered her face in her hands, rubbing it up and down like it was a cage she couldn't escape. "My father used to say that." She said, stopping her rasping as she could breathe once more. "Thank you." Mourena smiled, stretching her body with it being freed of the restraint. "My mother was gentle and sweet always, and my father used to tease that I had been spawned during a fight." She said it flatly, thinking of how Thranduil had referred to her birth name. She hated it, it was a reminder of how much she was not like her mother, or her father, and the name only solidified her heritage. She was not the sole creature on the Earth who became known by a different name, it just happened that she distained the association.

"At least you have regained favor." Eroiwn spoke, watching her pace again, she was indeed, young. Her red hair seemed to glow with her anger, which reminded him of how fierce elves could look in battle or performing magic.

"Regained favor?" She muttered, "If only-Eroiwn, will you take me back to the cell, please?"

Eroiwn narrowed his eyes, not understanding her reasoning. "I am sorry,-"

"I wish to be taken back to the cell. I refuse to be captive." Mourena said, standing still, her hands on her hips. She smiled at her own brilliance, thinking of other ways to get around this perspective dilemma. Eroiwn smiled and shut his eyes.

"How long do these, fiery episodes last?" The elf questioned, hoping they were soon. Mourena sighed, touching her hair, growling as she messed it up. The elf opened his eyes to watch this phenomenon, puzzled at what she was trying to do. Not many elves did have curly hair, however, if that was the natural state she had endured, the foreign dress and style would be deemed unpleasant. He walked to the table, pouring some water into a goblet. Closing the distance between then, he strode back over to her, taking a hand, pouring some water on it, and ran it through her hair, startling her, after doing that for a few minutes, the hair turned wavy then curly within quick succession.

"That will be all Eroiwn." A voice commanded, and Mourena turned away from the sound, her face heating up as the elf bowed and walked out of the room, shutting the door. "Do you have nothing to say, to-" Thranduil drawled, "Your King." Mourena said nothing, crossing her arms and clenching her teeth, the heat on her face like the high noon day sun. He walked toward her, and she bristled, slapping his hand away when he touched her. "A caged bear," He drawled, circling her. "-will it perform tricks for its master?"

"You've have been drinking." She growled, smelling it on him.

"Why, what a brilliant deduction from my little bird." Thranduil drawled, touching her hair and looking her over, his temper was still inclined to ignite. "However, I warn you, you shall ignite my wrath, I suggest you continue to show favor to lowly elves." Mourena moved her jaw, feeling his eyes boring into her mind.

"Imagine this, an elven King, behaving more like a noble child-" Mourena spoke, the words coming like scattered rain drops, his presence and smell rattling her focus and attention. "-than what he was born to me."

"Must you insist on angering me?" He drawled, touching her face. "Can you not see that my actions serve a higher purpose?"

"No, I can not, and care not, for such-" Mourena moved his hand away. "Excuses."

He did not react in violence or solemn distain. "Do you not know what I have done?" Mourena closed her eyes, his face flashing in her mind, a great sadness beneath those icy depths. Like two people who truly seeing, she saw how much her words and actions had caused him, and realized that he, as great, childish, rude, haughty and malevolent had also suffered things she would never know. "I have given you freedom, no one will question your word nor bother you. No longer bound to refuge but bound only by your relation to me." She bit her lip, there was a feeling in her chest, like a hand on her ribs, drawing her to him once more. Her anger, no matter how heated, could not withstand this storm; like the sea, calm with rapid storms breaking upon the rocks. He touched her cheek and she shivered, a rush of emotions upon the sea. "I cannot sacrifice the lives of many with a flick of the hand, little bird. I must weigh all the options, I will not hesitate to march to war, if the cost does not outweigh the benefit."

"That dress, it was worn by my mother, it is the last I have of her. It suited you." He stated, watching her, tears forming in her eyes.

"Why can I not stay angry, courage does not fail me, it is something far more grasping." She said, reaching out and touching a strand of his hair, his image so clear in her mind's eye. "It is like we are a being pulled within a current, a storm, which snarls and blows with each change of direction." Mourena shook her head, the tears moving down her face. "I am sorry I acted as such." She whispered, her temper fading into the depths. "I cannot ask for proper salience, but I must try."

"Yes, I think at last, I can see which fault shall end in your demise." He smiled, wiping away a tear, his voice echoing with in her mind. She smiled, stifling a sob as he stepped closer, her fingers touching his hair, wondering at its softness. "But no one shall count bravery against you, misplaced or not." He drawled, watching her intently, his own mind ashamed at his own ilk of fallibility. "The dwarf and you, little bird, can light an inferno that lies buried beneath a wall of calming seas, I find fate has sent me a creature of reprise to adjust me to my faults."

"My Lord." She whispered, "I must tell you, it was not you who truly frightened me."

"The Lady Galadriel brings powers that even I have not, into my Kingdom. She truly wields a spectacular power." He spoke, leaning in towards her face, his eyes no longer icy but wanting, almost empty look glazed his eyes.

"Thranduil," She said, "While she had unmediated power, it was not that which frightened me," She held a breath, her mind unsure whether or not to tell him what she had seen. He watched her with understanding eyes, waiting. "One moment, whereby no longer could I see your face within my heart, total separation. Not restricted to total isolation, but excruciating pain, unyielding in its fury."

Thranduil watched the fledgling and smiled, "What have you to fear, little bird? Fate has not brought you to this place by fleeting design-" He spoke, lifting her chin from its downcast position it had moved to, "-Or do you harbour the belief that I shall let you go so easily?"

She made a sound, putting her hands on cheeks, feeling his features, and the image of his face, writhing in agony once again flashed through her mind, and she felt a tear roll down her face. Should she have fought at all, should she had fought to keep him here, to prevent whatever happening caused such unmediated suffering? "My Lord," She whispered, "Can you smile for me?" Thranduil turned his head slightly, a smile easily forming on his lips as she did as she asked. Her fingers seem to scan every inch of his face, and she smiled, a small laugh on her lips as his smile formed in her mind. It was radiant, the star, burning in the horizon, long silver hair and eyes of sapphires, a smile that would set the world alight.

She leaned forward, letting her lips kiss the side of his smile so slightly. Thranduil felt a low growl in his throat, watching her, his arms surrounding her and embracing her, the gentle kiss transforming as he leaned over her, her back bending toward the floor, his arm supporting her frame. When their lips broke apart, a sigh escaping their lips, as if a light transcended to the Heavens. His lips found her throat, kissing the tender skin, his right hand resting on her thigh, the growl rumbling within them both. This inferno not restricted to temper, but love as well. Elves, who in ancient times married once and not always for love, rarely those met the partner that allowed the fire of life to burn within them.

His lips reached her collarbone, and he opened his eyes, the elongation of her neck the fluttering of her heart, wild and uncaged in such an honest moment. He started to right himself, pulling her up with him, her hands, which had rested on his shoulders during the downward motion, now found a more appropriate location. Her left hand held his cheek, tracing his jawline to his chin, her forehead against his other cheek. Her right hand reached out behind her, entwining her fingers in his own. Like the last moment in its place, she felt like she could cry, that link between her chest and his, their hearts beating with the same type of fluttering sensation.

"I must leave you for tonight," He whispered, running a hand over her hair, his eyes shut. "Tomorrow, little bird."

"Please." She whispered, "Thrandruil-"

"I know what you would ask, little bird." He said softly, his voice echoing within her soul.

"I have clipped wings, my Lord." Mourena breathed, "Not a bird but a remnant of one."

"No, you are like a wren, who stays within its nest for too long before taking flight, but not frozen by the fear of falling, but of how far it is likely to go." He whispered, kissing her head, walking to her door and leaving the lingering taste of his meaning upon her lips.


	15. Of Bonds of Love

**I hope you all like this chapter, I certainly enjoyed writing it. For the second section, I encourage all of you to listen to the Flower Duet, I was when I was writing it. So, as always, please read, review and enjoy! **

She walked in the trees, her back to the grand door of the hall. Lord Elrond walked by her side, having taken her arm to steady her. Thranduil was not present, if he knew that Mourena was walking outside in the early morning twilight, he had not yet acknowledged it. Lord Elrond had sought her out, whether request or internally decided, she did not know, and they now walked within the boundaries just outside the door. He was a gentle creature, he told her of Rivendell and Lothlorien, both places sounded wild and fantastic.

"What places they seem to be." She said, "I am envious of you, what you have seen, how much of the world have you seen."

"It is not dependant on time," Elrond replied, "Time can both embroider and degenerate the mind. Life is a heavy burden." Mourena mused, dropping her head as they walked along.

"Is death not just as so?" She countered, "Or sleep. Dreams lose shape and mold us, which evolve only through life."

"If you lived, all the years possible, would not waking become a burden?" He asked her, moving a branch out of the way. "Would not death, separating yet joining love and loss, bear the same burden?"

Mourena moved her head, listening to the sounds of the trees. "If I had a choice, between mortality and not, I would choose mortality. Without pressure of death, what do we become? Placid, immobile. Agnosia becomes available, there lacks something to believe in, something to choice, making the right choice, becoming something that impacts the world in such a way that remains fruitful."

Lord Elrond smiled, putting a hand on her one, tapping it gentle like a father. "It is mortality that separates the races, but fear of death does not always prove causation of these things."

"Is race truly real, my Lord?" She asked, "Is race not a feature of us that one has chosen in order to create power delineations?"

"For a child, you seem to have much thought on the matter." He said, a knowing tone within his voice. "I do not believe your thoughts to have sprung from nothing. What well have you unearthed that produces such things?"

"I can not say, my thoughts are my own. I have lived in Rohan each waking moment, there is no basin to gather my thoughts and theories." Mourena responded, "I had much time to think of it, it flows through me. I do not want to become idle in thought."

"Let me ask you this." He said, "What if time, through living, is means by which connecting love and death, what then, if they cannot be separated, makes the burden?"

"Understanding," She answered, "Understanding of the world and those who are around us."

"What is love?" Elrond asked her, not requiring the answer. "It is the total and complete understanding. There is no boundary for love, brothers love, neighbors may love. Is not then, by extension, this understanding a burden, for when will you find time to understand all. A year will never render one understood of another, nay perhaps not a lifetime."

Mourena smiled, and offered a smile. "I am outdone." She said, "You have bested me fully."

"It is merely a step on the road of understanding." He replied, touching her face as they stopped walking. "I do know that your sight is not blocked by something other than your injury. Is there any reason you stay in the dark?"

"No." Mourena replied, "Yes. I feel darkness all around me, a motion that blocks my sight, but that alone is not enough to prevent me wanting to see."

"Will you allow me to take that darkness away?" Mourena nodded, and the elf muttered something in his native tongue, his hand staying on her face. Nothing changed, not overly, the fuzz around her sight seemed clearer, but the darkness in her sight remained. "Now, you should wait, three days from now. Place your face within warm water, after you must eat this." Lord Elrond gave her a plant, placing it in her hand.

"This plant shall cure my blindness?" She asked, touching it gentle.

"No, but it is rather good for general healing." He responded, and she laughed, as they continued their walk in the woods. "Lady Galadriel asked me to look your future."

"That was kind." Mourena said, the only polite thing she could think of. "What did you see?"

"I saw death." The elf said, and the girl stopped, looking toward the sky. "I also saw an elf whom I have not seen nearly in an age." Mourena opened her lips in trepidation, awaiting the announcement of whose death, or a hint of what he meant. "I also saw shades of something I did not understand. I saw something that should not be."

"Dare I ask what it is?" Mourena replied, her heart pounding.

"You can, yes. But will you do me the honour of waiting until I have had time to understand it?" The elf asked, as they turned back, a peace settling over them. "Then I may give you a full answer." Mourena agreed to that condition, no less anxious about her own nightmares, but there may be an answer provided. "Lady Galadriel believes you share my gift."

"Really?" Mourena questioned, "I highly doubt what we have is the same. They are just nightmares, images I have concocted in my head with no basis of truth to them."

"Fate never gives us things we cannot handle, it is neither random nor mundane." Elrond replied, "If what you say is true, then Lady Galadriel would be wrong in her ascertation." Mourena sighed, shaking her head.

"I do not think she would say it, if it were not true." Mourena stated, "Which by extension means renders my own statement untrue." She sighed again, looking toward the ground. "My Lord Elrond, if what I have is foresight, then why has it not come sooner? Why does it appear in earnest now?"

"Magic does not always appear when you expect it, sometimes it takes many years to truly develop a gift. You are quite young still." The elf replied. "Let us make it easier, what have you seen?" Mourena told him, leaving out names for all intrinsic purposes, but the general scene. He listened, the image forming in his mind, but the answer of interpretation remained unclear. "When we return from Dol Guldur, will you accompany us back to Rivendell?"

"With pleasure," Mourena answered, "Providing that I am given permission to leave."

"I am sure King Thranduil will not object to such a journey." Lord Elrond said, offering her comfort in his words. In his heart, he neither knew the answer nor wished to guess.

* * *

Thranduil watched had watched his guests leave for Dol Guldur from the safety of his palace, his young guest seemed saddened by their leaving, whereas he felt limitless peace. He turned from the door, his robes billowing as he walked toward his chamber. Sealing himself inside, he removed his crown, placing it safety in its place before removing the rest of his robes and stepping into the water.

He welcomed the warmth and solitude, his mind tormented by Galadriel's words. Walking to the middle of the water, which came to his waist, he breathed in the scents he adored so much. Bending his knees, he lowered himself into the water, before lifting his legs off the bottom as to be encased by water. He shut his eyes as he allowed his head to submerge, the darkness surrounding him.

Holding his breath he lingered under the surface, much like his heart. He wished he felt more at peace with the visit, but his temper had been fueled by the voice inside his head, while an outward voice of honesty and misunderstanding came from that little bird. Against his will she invaded his senses, he found himself seeking her out, not to own or make captive, but to stand next to. He wished she could stay next to him, frozen in time and not ailed by morbidity. If there was a way to encase her youthful freedom of expression, her fury and fortitude.

He felt pressure within the room as he brought his head out, water running down his features. He breathed, a feeling swelling in his breast like a crescendo of music. Placing a hand on his heart, he pressed upon it, the feeling growing. It started so meekly, the water seemed to glisten and move as it rose, a sound inherently inhuman and yet echoing like the words within the room. Unaware was he, that within a room not so far away, the same sound, beating within a different chest, was also swelling, rising with the waves of the sea. Standing in the center of her chamber, a song seemed to emerge, a duet where by two songs with the same voice commanding the tune danced around her.

As he stood there, the crescendo building, the power building within the sweetness of the song itself, the room seemed to spin. Her voice, soft and starling seemed to cause the water to rise up, turning in tendrils around him. His voice, strong and deep like the roots of the forest cascaded around her form, dancing with her in the dark. They floated on a place so far from touch, water seem to flow from the ceiling, a dark and starlit sky was their floor. Vocalizing seemed to surround them, two bodies, seeing perfectly the other's unprotected forms, entirely ethereal. Reaching out to one another, only touching their fingertips as they moved slowly, a dance like motion, feeling every motion, understanding every touch.

Their bodies moving in such continuum, both sets of eyes shut as they waltzed out this dance, this song of their hearts cascading around them. Finally joining, skin touching skin, they moved around the floor, her head on his chest, his heart in her hands as the pulsations grew, the sound reaching fortissimo. As they spun, they opened their eyes, and the world seemed to go slowly dark as they embraced.

Thranduil opened his eyes, letting out the breath he had been holding, yet his breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling in such a fashion. His eyelids felt heavy, his gaze resting somewhere in the room while he comprehended such expression. He found perspiration on his forehead, and he removed his hand from his heart, plunging himself back within the water.


	16. Secrets of Her Kind

** Please read, review and enjoy!**

Thranduil encased himself in a silver evening wear, the familiar smell wafted through his senses as he brushed his magnificent mane. His eyes saw his reflection in the mirror, _Would I choose her over my kingdom?_ Looking at the brush in his hand, he saw a totem of his kingdom, silver and wood, entwined in glorious fashion. Like him, it seemed not to age but alas he did grow weary. His kingdom long polluted by the return of a great power, little at first, seeping and worming its way into the forest, making it ill. He had moved his borders back, for where evil festered it would surely grow.

It had been early in the Third Age of the Sun, just an age had passed by him when he sensed something different in his woods. The trees were restless, afraid of something long since passed but even they did not know. However it was not until 2845 did a name become known to him once more, through the aid of the wizard, it was known to few that Sauron had returned, but not in his full form. He knew the white wizard had been skeptical, not truly believing what Gandalf spoke. Thranduil had felt the presence, but like others, believed him to be incapable of returning. More than that, he wished that it was impossible. Great death and sorrow always followed, as it had been in the War of Last Alliance, elves and men.

Thranduil set the brush on the mantel, thinking back what seemed not so far away. His father riding so proudly to battle, knowing his men were young still, lacking as much experience as many of the men that battled with him. They had been outnumbers, out skilled and yet victory had been obtained. He had watched his father die, and far too many of his kin. Only a third had returned, and suddenly he, and he alone was ruler of these people. He had summoned his courage and led them to the river, and there, they stayed. He had taken a wife, one of his choice but not for love. There were no children, or very little left, and so the lines had to be replenished. Legolas, who was born S.A 3450, had become his joy. The elf resembled him in every way, including his young spirit. He hope Legolas would marry and produce an heir, like Thranduil's own father had much hoped before they went to war.

He sighed, his body felt weary. The return of such an enemy meant that many of his kin would die, and he did not want to see such a thing happen again. _No. _His eyes turned hard, his decision made. He and he alone was King of the Greenwood, a descendant of the Nadora and the protector of his kind. Here he would remain, here the darkness would be held at bay and here he would rule, until he was called home again.

He stood from his position, the robe of purple hanging by him. He reached for it, feeling a slow and steady dread wash over him. _Do not abandon your reason!_ Her voice seemed to linger in his head, and he pushed it aside. Laketown, trading partners with the Woodland Realm, would soon find themselves at the mercy of a dragon. The smallest chance of success would render the Mountain ready, the gems of Girion might be his. Placing the robe on his body, Thranduil left his chamber, walking along the halls until he heard the sound of harps playing in the distance.

Thranduil stopped at the doorway, his son coming to stand beside him as the song progressed. A number of elves were listening in various places in the halls. It was a Lόrien song, something he had not heard in his halls for an age. Thranduil narrowed his eyes as he watched, it was unnatural for an _atani_ to know such a song, and it was pleasing to his ears. He turned away, ignoring the protests of his heart and walked past his son, who remained to listen to the red headed girl.

The music seemed to perforate the walls, and a growing headache formed in his head. Focusing, he failed to block out the song, and Thranduil let out a growl of frustration. Turning on his heels, he walked briskly towards the sound, passing Legolas as entered the room. "Please refrain from tormenting my ears with such dreadful melodies." He drawled, glancing at Eroiwn and frowning, his icy look causing the elf to bow deeply and the girl stopped playing. Moving away, he left the room, his shoulder back, the flow of his robes around his ankles familiar and comforting while the silence that not filled his head was as painful as the Lόrien song.

"Why did you stop her so rudely?" Legolas asked, walking behind him. "We have not had such music within these walls, it brightens our spirits."

"It does not brighten mine." Thranduil responded, not bothering to look back. "Do you not find it odd that a human would know such a song, when she lives neither close to Lόrien, and likewise probably neither visited?"

"It is possible," Legolas responded, "Have you not thought it odd that she could outrun a pack of Wargs when they attacked, or that she seems to have attracted the attention of the Lady Galadriel?" He spoke as they walked, "Have you also not thought it odd that the King of the Greenwood does not want to fight the evil knocking on our doorstep?"

Thranduil turned his head, watching his son. "You question my judgement."

"I question your motive." Legolas replied. "Never before have we shied from battle."

"You think too highly of war." Thranduil drawled, turning his head back and gazing ahead. "The time may come when even you do not run to war with such vigor."

"Father," Legolas said, placing a hand on the shoulder of his kin. "Lord Elrond's visit has bothered me greatly. This evil is before my time, but I remember its name. You must see that our kin are afraid, most of these elves are young, and have never seen the fear of battle."

"Legolas." Thranduil responded, turning to face his son. "I was once as you, so eager to fight that which sought to destroy my land. But like you also, I had not the years of battle and test of mettle as my father. That War destroyed us, and I have worked to rebuild our Kingdom and restore numbers to my kin." He drawled, touching his son's face lightly. "I shall not turn away if it comes to war, alas I must not rush my kin towards a death they may avoid." Removing his hand and turning back, a small table in the room next them with wine and food prepared there.

"Shall you turn away from love?" Legolas asked after a lengthy silence. Thranduil froze, his back straight and unyielding answers as he moved once more, pouring wine into two goblets. "I know you did not love my mother, neither she you. You have been kinder towards myself, letting me choose who and when I love and marry. Will you not do the same?"

"I can not afford to build alliances with those whose lives are so easily lost." Thranduil replied, taking a drink as his son approached him.

"You believe by being cold to her it will make me bind to what I see." Legolas said, facing his father. "She does not mean nothing, what oddities exist are trivial, what matters is you love her."

"When have I declared such feelings?" He asked, his eyes boring into his son's. "As soon as she regains her sight, she will be sent on her way."

"What has brought on this?" Legolas asked, his eyes searching for understanding. "I am not blind to how you look at her, though you may hide it."

"If I look at her," Thrandruil drawled, his head turning slightly as he poured more wine. "It is because she displeases me. I find her presence here annoying, she can offer me nothing. The sooner she can leave, the happier it will make me." Legolas studied his father, narrowing his eyes and attempting to understand.

"I can not understand you. Why do you push her away, she has done nothing." Legolas said, his mind flickering to the events of two days previous. "You seemed to forgive her easily enough for her blunder."

"Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond requested her presence." Thranduil stated, "I could not refuse them." Legolas dipped his head, even he could see this agreement would go nowhere. His father was never one to relinquish his side of an agreement. "My son," Thranduil drawled, passing to him a goblet. "Your time will come, Lord Elrond has looked into your future and found it bright." Taking the goblet, Legolas raised it with his father as his kin said a toast in elvish, drinking it while the ill words of his father's choices sat within him like a heavy stone within a pond.

* * *

Eroiwn stood within the woods, his charge looking somber and lonely as she sat among the trees. It had been three days since Lord Elrond had left them, and her sight had not returned. Eroiwn felt for her, as he would for a child, he wished to protect her. He sensed a great discord between her and the King, for the King had not spoken one word to her, not come to bid her good night as he had before Lord Elrond's departure. More than that, she seemed burdened by something, he could not tell if it was the coldness of his King, or something that had passed between her and Lord Elrond.

"Mourena," He spoke, the girl looked up from her reverie. "We should return indoors." The girl seemed to sigh, but with no sound, and she stood. Brushing off her dress, a dress plain and meager compared to what she had been given before and it pained Eroiwn to see her in it, it neither complimented her nor suited her. He offered her his arm, and she accepted, walking through the wood in silence. "Your playing was very good, we have not heard a song from Lόrien in many years."

"Lόrien?" Mourena replied, "I do not know that name." She mused longer, trying to remember but shaking her head. "It was just a tune my father taught me."

"Your father?" Eroiwn asked, "From Rohan?"

Mourena shook her head, "No, he was not from Rohan. The man I stayed with there was not my father." Eroiwn looked at her sharply as she continued. "I called him my father, for he is truly the only real father I have known, he took us in when no one else would. Before you ask, I do not know the name of where we hailed, they never spoke of it. My mother looked much like me, from what I can remember, and it caused great grief with men. My father was fair haired, I used to think he was a dream, unreal the colour was to a child. My brother looked just like him, while I took strongly after my mother."

"How did you end up in Rohan?" Eroiwn asked, his mind trying to place everything together.

"Something made my mother flee, what I do not know. But I never saw my real father again. The man who took us in lived north of Gladden Fields. His name was Thein, and he was truly a great man." Eroin took in her words and puzzled over them, Gladden Fields were closer to Lόrien than Mirkwood, and a river separated the forest and the place where Isildur had died.

_Is it possible her father was an elf?_ He wondered, _An elvish song coming from the land of men is rare, unheard of. _ He said nothing of his concern, the grand doors opening for them and he noticed her looking behind them. "Mourena?" The girl turned her head back, smiling softly as the doors closed behind them, the darkness sealing them within. "When did your mother pass?" The girl gave a troubled gesture.

"I can not say." She finally whispered, "I feels more like a dream. I remember as a child going to the river, and upon seeing the starry sky I feel into such a sleep. When I woke, my brother was much older, as was I, and learned of my mother's passing, my father no longer there. The place seemed strange to me, the world did not seem so different, and my brother said nothing as to what to my length sleep. We trekked to Fangorn forest-" Eroiwn frowned, thinking of something long forgotten in his mind. "A woman came to us, and she told us to venture northwards, for the forests near were not safe."

"Your mother was not in the Gladden Fields?" Eroiwn asked, his head jumbled.

"Yes, I do believe so, for a time. When I woke, she was gone. And when Thein took us in, he brought us north, on the other side of the river but far from men." She replied, "But I feel like I was asleep for ages, I was so changed when I woke. But Tanin said nothing."

"You must have passed Lόrien on your journey." Eroiwn stated, and Mourena shook her head.

"Tanin said to stay near to the mountain, and so we did. I think he knew more than he let on, I sometimes thought he wanted to go to Fangorn forest."

"What was the name of the woman you met in the forest?" Eroiwn said, something Galadriel said flashing within his mind.

"Mithrellas." Mourena responded.

* * *

Eroiwn knocked on the door, and the voice responded with permission. "My Lord Legolas." Eroiwn said, stepping in and shutting the door. "I have news."

"What is it?" The elf prince asked, sitting in a high backed chair, setting his book down on the table.

"The girl, I think she is of elven descent." Eroiwn replied.

"I suspected so myself." Legolas said, looking at the elf sternly. "What makes you draw such conclusions?"

"The Lόrien song she played, she said her father taught her." Eroiwn said, "The man in Rohan she called father was named Thein, not Amίdel." The elven Prince rose, waiting for his continuation. "She said one day she fell into a long sleep, and it cast my mind to that of Nimrodel."

"Yes, I remember her, the elven maiden who went to Edhellond." Legolas said, nodding, "But what of her?"

"Do you remember the name of her companion, my lord?"

Legolas paused, thinking back to that time. A small group of Lorien elves had fled from the forest, making their way south to Edhellond. "Mithrellas, if I remember correctly."

Eroiwn nodded, "Did she have a child?"

Legolas nodded. "Galador, Prince of Dol Amroth." He stopped, looking at the ceiling, "I am not sure, but I believe she had a daughter as well, born later." Legolas lowered his head, putting a hand on Eroiwn's shoulder and nodded. "I shall investigate further, thank you Eroiwn."

"My Lord Legolas," Eroiwn said, "I do not like deceiving her, pray, if she truly does not know her own descent, pray tell her."

"I do not like it either, Eroiwn. I wondered why the Lady Galadriel would find favor with a stranger so quickly, and she may suspect much as same as we." Legolas removed his hand and walked toward the door. "For now, saw nothing, to anyone, even my father. We must know for certain." Eroiwn bowed, walking out of the room and into the lit halls of the Kingdom.

**The folllowing names are solely Tolkien's. Mithrellas, Nimrodel, Amroth and Gilmith are all his characters (aside from the rest of the obvious ones). Now. It goes like this. **

**1981 – Nimrodel and Mithrellas flee Lorien **

**Mithrellas and Imrazor have 2 kids – Galador and Gimlith, however, Gimlith's life is totally unknown. And Mithrellas just disappears again. Nothing else is really known about Nimrodel either. However, Galador was born in T.A. 2004- which means Gimlith was born some time after. In case you were wondering.**


	17. It becomes clear

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please read, review and enjoy!**

Mourena lay upon the bed as the day finished passing, tears softly falling from her eyes. She had done as Lord Elrond said, and she had consumed the plant, as gross as it may have been. She felt no hope, this darkness was unnavigable. Eventually sleep came, but not until the early morning of the fourth day.

_"Gimieth," Amίdel spoke, his wife did not face him, tears on her face. "You know I must leave."_

_"We always knew this would end in sorrow Amίdel. But never did I think it would come so soon." Gimlith replied, her long red braid coiled around her shoulders._

_"I fear it for the best." Amίdel replied, "For both Amόdel and Imίdel."_

_"You do this for them?" Gimlith replied, turning around finally. "Or because I have chosen mortality? Amίdel, let us not use pretences."_

_"I love you no less for your choice, though I can not pretend it to be easy." He replied, touching her face. "I will continue to love you until I pass from this world." A moment seemed to pass between them, an agony loomed, the golden man seemed far enough away, and Gimlith shook her head._

_"Your mother looked into their futures, like she did ours. What did she see?" Gimlith asked, watching her husband with cautioned eyes. Amίdel dropped his hand and stepped back, picking up a bow and quiver. "Answer me, Amίdel."_

_"She saw death, and much of it. You must give her the drink." He replied, his golden hair seem to radiate in the darkness of the place. "And soon."_

_"This is why you leave?" She asked, touching his face. "What was seen that requires such action?"_

_"Bess nǐn." He replied, his face scrunching. "I can not say, for it pains my heart to think of it." He frowned, "Follow my instructions. Trust me, Gimlith, and head for Edhellond. Do not stay close to the Greenwood, for only pain shall follow."_

_"Where shall you go?" She cried, lowering her head. "No one knows of your existence, where can you go?"_

_Amidel shut his eyes, he had no desire to part from his beloved. His mother had passed on after he had reached adulthood, a broken heart eventually claiming her soul. His wife, a creature of rare red hair and vicious temper had ensnared his heart as well as his soul, rendering him bound to her. "I will go to my home, it is the only place I can go."_

_"You would go to Lόrien?" Gimlith asked, "After everything we have been told. You would risk your life-"_

_"Your fate is tied to mine, bess nǐn, ú-chebin estel anim" Amidel replied, turning his head slightly to see her. "Gimlith, vanimelda, namárië."_

_"Amίdel, ethelithach." Gimlith asked once more, approaching him._

_"Ú-ethelithon." He replied, watching her. "Hiro hyn hîdh ab'wanath."_

_Gilmith cried, watching as a tear itself fell from his eyes. "Am man nallach? Man i nîr hin bo thîr lín?"_

_"Bess nǐn," He said, turning around, touching her face and wiping away her tears. "Meleth nǐn." He turned quickly, darkness seeming to swallow him._

The dream seemed shadowy and hazy, words seemed locked away and she did not know them. She sat up quickly, a gasp on her lips and tears flooded from her eyes. She blinked, the darkness of the room bothered her, and she got up, opening her door. The dim hallway encased her path, and she ran to it, heading to the large door, touching it with her fingers. She trembled, watching her fingers in terror, and then realization. Sight, so lost to her that she did not know when it had returned.

Backing away from the door, she walked, the underdress light and fluid against her skin. Shaking with trepidation, she wandered the halls, her feet at times refusing to move as tear escaped her eyes still. Crossing her arms, she walked, her tears fell silently as she looked around the hall. It was every bit as grand as she had imagined, more so. The high ceilings were masterfully crafted, and the halls were adorned with light and beauty. The power of the structure, and its depths, made her mind swim.

She came to a place, it was lower down and the stairs were long and winding. She saw many doors, and new it was the place she had first stayed when she had been brought here. Even here it was beautiful. Her mind crossed to the voices she had talked to in the dark, and she cried for them, hoping that they were alive and well, for they seemed like merry, happy creatures. Turning, she walked back up the stairs, walking toward another section she had not explored.

Each place was new, and she tried to take it all in, but after a time she found she was wandering aimlessly. A door within her reach was very beautiful, and she walked toward it, wondering where it led. Her hand was outstretched, her fingers about to touch the door when something reached her. The smell, the only smell she truly knew better than her own. Lemongrass and lavender, wild flowers and a musky hue that made her freeze. Why had she walked to such a place, a place her heart wanted nothing but to be, while her mind warned her of those feelings.

She withdrew, taking her hand back as she turned, walking slowly, then running, almost sprinting back to the place where she had come out of. However, that was farther than she thought, and Mourena conceded to the darkness she was lost. She leaned on a wall, tears that had stopped without her noticing came once more. She touched her face and covered her eyes, trying to think of the way to go.

Lowering her hands, she looked across the dim place and saw a creature with silver hair, walking with purpose in some other direction. She watched in silence, he was tall, handsomely featured, and he wore robes of green and brown. He stopped, turning his head in her direction. Mourena dared not drop the gaze, lest she give away her regained sight. She straightened, letting out a sigh and turned her whole body towards the left, her arms out stretched and she moved slowly. "Mourena." Legolas called and she stopped, turning her head towards the sound. "Why are you not in your chamber?"

"I was roused from sleep." She replied, wiping her eyes once more. "An awful dream."

"I see." Legolas said, "Will you take my arm, I will have Eroiwn make something to ease your dreams." Mourena took his arm, and he led her slowly to the room in which Eroiwn was working. She tried very carefully to hide her thoughts on sleep, she really had no desire to dream once more. "What was this dream, to sen you into such a state?"

"My parents." She answered, she had no reason to lie to him. "There have been so many questions asked about them, I fear I cannot escape those memories." Legolas felt a twinge of guilt, since dishonestly is not a typical elvish policy.

"Are you enjoying your stay here?" Legolas asked, diverting attention from a subject she was not enjoying. "Eroiwn seems to be quite taken with you."

"He has made the visit more entertaining." Mourena replied. "He attempted to show me how to defend myself, but I think I am not allowed back without explicit consent."

"I am sure it was not that bad." Legolas replied, as they turned a corner.

"He said he would prefer to be on the side of the enemy if he ever met me in battle." Mourena said, it brought a smile to her face. Legolas smiled, a small chuckle rising in him and she was struck by how alike the both of them were. She wondered if Thranduil had once been like Legolas, not filled with such a heavy heart.

"My father," Legolas started.

"Please." She whispered, "Do not say it." Legolas looked at her, but she turned her head away, and he could see the tears on her cheek.

"My Lord," Eroiwn said, opening his door to the sound his voices. "I did not expect to see-" He looked at Mourena, whose tears shed from eyes that were clear.

"I shall leave Mourena in your care Eroiwn," Legolas handed the girl to the elf, walking away with a short farewell. As she walked into the room with Eroiwn's help, she turned when he shut the door.

"What troubles you so, that my prince has led you here?" the elf asked, and Mourena shook her head.

"I had a troubled dream." She replied, rubbing her eyes. "I ran into the halls without meaning too. Legolas kindly found me and helped me."

"Ah," The elf said. "I thought it was perhaps because your sight had cleared." Mourena went silent, shaking her head. "I can see it in your face, and so will have the Prince." He said, standing by her, touching her shoulder.

She looked up at him, the tear marks still there. "Please, I beg of you to say nothing."

"Why are you so afraid of sight?" Eroiwn asked, "I recall you were anxious to see, but hours ago."

"It is the reason why I can see that bothers me so." She replied, lowering her face and covering her eyes. "I wish I had always been blind, so the desire to see again would not have been so strong."

"My friend." Eroiwn said, sitting next to her. "You are safe here." He touched her head, and she lowered her hands and looked at him.

"I am in love." She whispered, and Eroiwn did not change his expression. "I think it must be so, for I have never felt this way before." She admitted, grateful for the touch - for he was stroking her hair, a kind gesture but needless in retrospect. "Will you direct me to my chamber?"

"I can take you there." Eroiwn said, rising.

"No." She said, standing. "I -."

"Eroiwn," A voice drawled, and Mourena froze, her words stuck in her throat. "I believed you to be meeting me this past hour." The voice grew louder, and as it entered the room, she crossed her arms, feeling a chill. She could feel his eyes, scanning her and then to Eroiwn, who bowed. "By what cause are you both keeping so late an hour?" He drawled, anger pressing his words on.

"The lady needed an aid to ease her sleep," Eroiwn said calmly, picking up a bottle and putting it into her hand, giving her a quick look and she understood, the King was facing her back and she closed her eyes. "I am just now taking her back to her chamber." Eroiwn took her arm and she turned with him, they stopped, the King standing there. "I shall be back in an instant my Lord."

"See that you are." He replied, watching them as he moved aside.

**_The elvish basically says, in a VERY rough translation_**

**_A: he holds not hope for himself, Gimmleth, fair love, farewell._**

**_G: Amidel, I shall see you again_**

**_A: You shall not see me again. May they find peace in death._**

**_G: Why do you cry? What are these tears I see?_**

**_A: My wife, my love._**

**Ta-da! I tried. haha**


	18. Girlish Fun

** Please read, review and enjoy! **

Mourena paced within in her room, her heart lumped in her throat, she had a fear rising at the back of her neck but she did not know if that was from the dream. It was now morning, and she knew she was going to have to make an appearance. She leaned against the wall and she heard footsteps outside her door, a fact she could now say was genetic, elves were quiet creatures and it took a good pair of ears to hear them. A knock came and Eroiwn's voice echoed, "Mourena, are you awake." She pushed off the wall and walked to the door, opening it slightly, backing up so he could come in, "You look as if you did not sleep."

"Truer words were never spoken." She replied, walking to the mirror. She looked a mess, her hair was curled round until it frizzed out in a dirty mess, and her eyes were red with tears. She rang her fingers over her face and turned to him. "What am I going to do, I cannot hide this."

"We shall make due." He replied, offering her a robe. "There is a small pool which we elves often swim, it is within the wood, would you care to go?" She smiled, her eyes lighting up like a child's.

"Drowning being a less logical happening now?" She teased, putting the robe on and nodding. "I would like to see the daylight once more." He offered her his arm, and she took it. As they walked, she kept her head ducked, until they reached the door. It was huge, even larger than what it had seemed in the darkness. She held her breath as the door opened, the sunlight hitting her eyes and she held up a hand to block it, her eyes adjusting to the sun. Mourena blinked rapidly, looking at Eroiwn, and she unlinked her arm and walked out, trying not to run as she saw the splendor of the forest. "Is this really the same place?" She asked, "Glory to the wood, indeed." She turned, her red hair wild like the wood behind her. Eroiwn smiled, the door closing behind him as he walked out to her, and she giggled for the first time, the sound joyous to his ears.

"To see joy on your face," Eroiwn smiled, the creature almost bouncing off the walls. "I shall mark it as one of the keenest pleasures I have seen."

"Eroiwn, do not tease me." She replied, walking over to him. "Please call me Ren, or Rena. You do not know how much I value your friendship." Eroiwn bowed his head as they walked through, she seemed to glow and she touched the wood gingerly. Animals seemed to appear constantly and she stopped to talk to all of them, even the ones reluctant to come. "Eroiwn, this place-" She outstretched a hand and found a small butterfly landing on it and she smiled broadly. "I have never known such a feeling." Eroiwn smiled and nodded, leading her in the direction of the pool.

They wandered for a stretch, and Mourena delighted in the wood, her heart was filled with it, a different kind of spirit had stirred within her, like it was home. As they came upon a slight incline, as they reached the top, Eroiwn grasped her hand and leaned over and she did the same. It was a lovely pool, more like a small lake, a small waterfall on the far side with waters that ran sapphire, its depths clear and still. The sun seemed to stand still, leaping off the water in a rainbow. "Eroiwn!" She cried, clasping her hands and startling him. "Thank you, what a prize have I beheld as the first true thing I see clearly."

Eroiwn smiled, straightening as Mourena backed away, undoing the fastening on her robe. He turned so he faced the drop off, looking at the sky and closing his eyes. He heard her footsteps recede further and he smiled, she had spirit, and it made him happy. Rapid footsteps approached and he felt a hand grasp his own as she leapt off the edge and he joined her, headfirst, righting himself as they hit the water. They submerged and he saw the white fabric of her night dress floating near him as he swam upwards, taking a gasping breath. Mourena came up for air and let out a shriek of excitement, removing her crimson hair from her face and laughing.

"I gather you find this entertaining." He said, heading for shore and she pushed water on him, her eyes glistening.

"Eroiwn, to be free once more." She said, swimming over to him as he headed for shore. "You can no know what this means, this feeling. You must share it with me, friend." Eroiwn watched her as she hovered in the water, grinning at him, the rise and fall of her chest as she anxiously awaited his answer.

"You are a child." He replied swimming to the edge, looking at his soaking garments and turning around the creature rising out of the water with a smile still on her face, tucking hair behind her ear.

"You will not jump again with me?" She asked, walking up to him and offered him her hand. "Follow me faithfully, as I have done?" Eroiwn met her eyes and smiled reluctantly, taking her hand and she started to run, Eroiwn in tow. Eroiwn took off his over robes and tunic, and she bouncing on the spot as she waited. She took his hand when she saw he was done, and they prepared themselves for the run at the overhang. They ran, Eroiwn much faster of the two and they leapt, Mourena letting out a cry.

* * *

Legolas and Thranduil were taking in the air, emerged in the quiet calm of the forest when a cry disturbed their thoughts, cutting through trees as clear as a bird's call. Thranduil turned, headed in that direction, Legolas following at his heels. His father was wearing the fall crown, even though the last moon of autumn was coming within five days. As they reached the embankment and looked over, Thranduil blinked as two bodies flew off the side of the overhang opposite. Legolas glanced at his father, who stiffened and watched as the two hit the water. Thranduil moved, walking to the edge of the pool with great strides, eyes blazing as the two came up for air.

Eroiwn came up, the red head followed and grinned at him, and he started to smile, before pushing her head back under and started toward the shore, Mourena followed quickly, coming out of the water and moved her hair away from her eyes. As they climbed out, she pushed him, laughing before turning her head and her eyes connected with icy blue ones, whose mouth was in a firm straight line. She caught her breath, aware of Eroiwn's naked chest and him offering a bow while she looked at the ground and bit her lip and tried not to smile. Eroiwn moved behind her and she felt the heat rising on her cheeks as she raised her head. She offered a slightly curtsy, since her dress was far too see through to bend over in a bow, and she trotted after her friend, putting a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggle. Eroiwn was practically dressed by the time she ran up, the fear and laughter coming out in the same breath and she trembled as she covered her mouth with her other hands as well, not being able to hold it in. Eroiwn looked at her, his reserved face back in place, his eyes watching her as she laughed. "Put this on," He said, picking up her robe and placing it around her shoulders.

"Eroiwn," She panted, "Trouble being not far from us, please, let me take the blame. I am the incorrigible human, after all." Eroiwn smiled softly, fastening the ties, taking his arm they descended to a cold looking Thranduil. She did not meet his eyes, raising her head to see Legolas first, who eyed her with concern. "My Lord Legolas, how truly you fit what my mind conjured, I never saw a better likeness." She smiled, her eyes scanning his face before looking toward his father. Thranduil looked no more pleased than Legolas, but his icy eyes met her green ones and the frozen clock within heart started to tick.

"My Lord Thranduil." She said softly.

"You have regained your sight." He drawled, stepping closer to her. She met his gaze, her fingers clenching around Eroiwn's arm to steady herself. "When did this marvel occur?"

"This morning, my Lord." She replied, "The sun, I wanted to see it-" Mourena felt Eroiwn slip away and she clasped her hands in front of her as she saw the two elves walk a few steps away. "-Melethnin." She whispered so low it almost could not be heard and she cursed herself for such a thing to slip out of her lips so absently, and surprise flashed in his face briefly and he stepped back.

'You did not think to alert your King as to this news?" He drawled, stepping around her, and she let out a breath.

"If I may speak plainly," She started, without waiting for him to give permission. "You have been avoiding me, so naturally you were not the first to know. Eroiwn thought I would like to see this place,-" She turned her head to his eyes, closer than she had suspected him to be. "First sight I love it, all of it. This wood, it calls to me." She said softly, before turning away again, feeling heat rise on her cheeks. "Eroiwn-" She called out, moving slightly forward when a hand stopped her from doing so.

"We shall join you within, Legolas go ahead without us." Thranduil drawled, and the two walked as they were told, His back was straight, his hand was the only thing preventing her freedom. She watched him, she couldn't help it. All of her imaginings were true, she had already seen his soul, his spirit, but his physical presence was far more extraordinary. He was tall, his long silver hair did glitter like moonlight. His face was so angular, so perfectly regal and the fall crown that sat upon his head seemed to making him like a giant to her. His eyes moved, and saw her staring at him, and Mourena could not remove her gaze.

"Thousand times have I seen your face," She said as she watched him turn to face her, his regal form now all in front of her. "And a thousand times was not enough to prepare me." She finished, tearing her eyes away, closing them as she pulled the robe over her. Never had a creature looked so through her, as if he knew everything about her.

"Your eyes may have healed," He drawled, "I would have preferred your manners be included." He watched her, fighting the urge to hold her close and touch her hair, the smell of the woods on her skin and hair. "Now that your eyes have healed, the length of your refuge is coming to an end." She turned back to him, her eyes narrowed in concern and confusion. "I shall make arrangements for elves to escort you as far as my borders end."

"Away?" She asked, the image of his, his face laboured and saddened by whatever could hurt him so, "Thra-"

"I am not in the habit of copying the actions of mortal men, Mourena. I am a King, and you are no one. You shall go when I say." He drawled, turning around his robes moving around his feet.

"I shall not go." She said, her voice hard. "Not thrown out like some old rag you have wiped your boot on." He heard her footsteps, marching up beside him and he looked at her calmly, the fury in those green eyes made him smirk. "I will wait for Lord Elrond, he desires to show me Rivendell, a pleasure I am sure you do not contend with." She said, standing in front of him. "And neither you cold stare nor you unaffectionate gaze shall deter me, _my Lord._" She snarled, her eyes watching his with a vengeance and temperament that matched her hair. "You make a mockery of me."

"When?" He drawled, "I made no overtures beyond caring for injuring you could not yet heal." He spoke, his tone commanding. "It may be commonplace for humans to mistake kindness for another emotion,-" He hissed, leaning in, their faces inches apart. "-but you mistake the kindness of a King, with it is whatever you_ think _you feel. I shall not be offended in the least-" He drawled, moving around her, "-by your childish ways." He walked towards the door, as they opened he ignored the throbbing in his head and the pain within his heart.

Mourena turned, her eyes seeing clearing what he meant, and she knew he was lying. Swallowing her heart, she held her head up and followed him inside. She set her jaw and made her decision as well, she would wait and travel with Lord Elrond to Rivendell. She made her way back to her room, there were clothes waiting for her and she dressed, coming to meet Thranduil, Legolas and Eroiwn in a room. She was polite and eat with the best manners she had, holding everything at bay. As they finished for the day, she rose with Eroiwn and she bowed her head, looking Thranduil in the eyes, she turned away as he stood, towering over her, moving passed her as she whispered, "_Don't do this."_ As she walked out of the room, her dress wrapping around her as they passed outside the room from different positions, she thought she heard the grand king whispered, "_Forgive me, little bird."_


	19. Of Duty and Wrongdoings

It became a ritual to walk out in the woods, she had fallen in love with everything about it and it seemed to return to feeling. She was not lonely there, and the ache in her heart seemed to dull when she sat within the Greenwood. It was hard to believe that this was the same place she had been told to avoid, the horrible place she had run into. That time felt like an age ago, and she touched the tree bark in gratitude for it had offered her protection and a source of new sustenance. Lord Elrond had been gone five days, and she knew that it had been six days since the prisoners had escaped. Time, it seemed to move so quickly. Her heart had grown full and her soul met with the one creature she was destined to love. And how could it be that these feeling could arise in such a short time, being here six weeks meant she had lane ill for too long with his image in her mind, festering and growing but non the less connected to him.

While she walked she sang, a small tune from her soul with no real words. She sang because she needed to, the feeling of doom circled at her feet and she walked over it with little apprehension. Her dreams were at peace and she knew when she left here, her journey would lead her to finding her father, both of them. She hoped against hope Thein was alive, and she wanted answers to all her questions. Amίdel had them, and she had to follow his footsteps to regain knowledge that had been hidden from her. But even if all this, would she be able to leave? All in all, she had nothing to offer him. She had no exceptional beauty, no talent for music that was above a human level, no talent for fighting, nothing to suggest she would ever gain those talents. The only thing that was certain is that they could be happy, and it pained her to think of them separated by physical distance.

Turning her head, Mourena reached up to touch the leaves as they gave a last attempt to cling to the branches. _This tree fights like I fight to cling to him_, she thought, removing her hand, _connected even by a thread._ She continued to walk, her eyes watching the paths around her. Nothing and everything felt stable, the peace of the forest could offer her peace, lingering peace, while the hot heated creature would try to dismantle that by making her leave. She found small clearing and it beckoned to her for rest. Sitting on the forest floor, Mourena looked up at the light tricking down, holding a hand in a sunspot and smiling softly as she felt the warmth. Closing her eyes, she placed the hand on over her heart feeling the sun permeate within her.

His face appeared in her mind, slowing coming into view._ He was wearing a silver braided crown on his silver white hair, his eyes worried as he seemed to face an impending force unseen to her. His body was clad in silver armour, beautifully detailed, glimmering in the light, with a green tunic underneath, a rich forest green that was inlaid with silver. He was armed with a sword, and he seemed to be surveying something in the distance, and someone was speaking, and his face flashed in agony, a deep desperation and sadness, and he turned, seeming to move through a sea in slow motion. Mourena seemed to move with him, seeing images of a blurry courtyard, littered in bodies and blood, and he stopped, something too horrendous for his sight came into view and a tear ran from his eyes. Mourena pushed on, and she saw the Greenwood once more, and Thranduil was walking in the forest, wearing silver robes, no crown adorned his head. He walked slowly, a sad expression on his face as he seemed to wander so aimlessly, holding a small ring in his hand, moving it within his fingers before stopping and looking back to the hall, tears within his eyes. Time seemed to move once more and she saw Lady Galadriel and Thranduil holding back a force of orcs and spiders from the south, trying to invade his borders. Again, it seemed time moved and she saw him walking toward a boat, it was grand. She saw him turn, holding a hand out to someone behind him, before turning and walking to the boat, walking on, his crown far from his head. His eyes looked misty as he looked ahead, the boat moving along to a place with which he could not return._

Mourena opened her eyes and she felt tears on her face, in joy or sadness she did not know. She had simply focused on him and seen what his fate would be. He survived the pain, whatever glimpse she had had before, all seemed well for the Greenwood, for the most part. There was no death. It struck her then,

_"What did she see?"_

_"She saw death, and much of it."_

Mourena knew then what they had meant. This must have been the gift Lord Elrond had talked about, and she felt relieved that she saw no death within his life, he was alive and a flood of relief washed over her. Wiping her face, she put her hands on her lap, aware of someone approaching, and she raised her eyes to see who it was. The very one stood before her, silver hair and sapphire eyes watching her. He wore a green tunic, a deep forest green that made the forest seem more apart of him. She stood, breaking the eye contact and walking toward him, moving her body to go around. He watched her, his head turning each moment as she walked to and past him, offering no greeting or gesture. A moment, fleeting fallacy, occurred where _he put out his hand, his fingers gently curling around her arm and she looked up to meet his eyes. Pulling her in, letting her head rest upon his shoulder, embracing his warmth and smell once more._

As she walked away, she feel the pull of his heart and her own, this moment where his mind was comforting her within his own fantasy made the image stark within her own. Mourena turned her head, and she met his gaze, whereby Thranduil turned and walked into the clearing, his back straight and robes moving along. She watched him, and smiled softly to herself, she held hope for him. If only he would reach out his arm like his soul had done, but maybe he would love again, one day.

As she came back to the doors, she found herself looking at a stranger, a tall golden creature wearing a brown tunic. He was speaking to Eroiwn, and she smiled at her friend as she approached, the tall man turning around. Mourena stopped short, her expression not calm and reserved the rest of the elves around her. She gave him a nod and slipped past Ewoirn, heading through the doors as she shook her head in utter confusion.

* * *

"You are come from Lόrien?" Thranduil drawled, pouring himself some wine and handing a goblet to his guest. "What business do you seek here?"

"I have come to meet Lady Galadriel and my lord Elrond, to aid them in their return journey." The elf responded, drinking with Thranduil and setting the goblet down.

"My halls do not offer such respite?" Thranduil asked, turning his head slightly over his shoulder as he saw Eroiwn and Legolas enter.

"Pray don't mistake my meaning." The elf replied, "My Lord Elrond indicated they would return here, before returning to Lόrien, I am to accompany my Lord Elrond back to Rivendell."

"Elrond did say something along those lines." Thranduil growled, recalling the conversation. "A party of two will become four at the end."

"Indeed." The elf bowed his head, "I have been informed that Lord Elrond intends on taking a guest back on the journey home." Thranduil's eyes scanned the elf and smirked with clenched teeth.

"It is true, marchwarden." Eroiwn nodded, "A young lady." Thranduil placed his goblet down and turned to face them all, his arms clasped behind his back. "She walked past us this afternoon, in the wood." The elf nodded, bowing to King Thranduil.

"I shall take my leave, I have to prepare the journey home." The elf rose, his eyes looking from elf to elf before turning and walking away, Eroiwn accompanying him to his room.

"Are you really going to let her go?" Legolas asked, watching his father's face. The King said nothing, watching the two elves disappear into the halls. "You would send her away?"

"What I do is none of your concern?" Thrandruil responded. "You should be worried about your own heart …Legolas."

* * *

Mourena waited for Eroiwn in the weapons room, she had managed to tie her hair up in a braid, it fell over her shoulders, wrapping itself around her neck. She heard footsteps and she stepped back into the shadows, watching as the King walked in, shedding his tunic.

He picked up a sword, it made a lovely hum as he removed it from its sheath. There was a fierce look on his face as he made a movement, fluid and frightening. He seemed to dance in the room, the sword slashing the air with deadly intent, his hair spinning and muscles fluid as he practised. His feet made no noise, his hands seemed to weave a pattern so lovely, and it seemed to hypnotize her. Thranduil stopped, the sword an extension of his arm, his feet planted, and his eyes envisioned a target. He straightened, walking over and grasping a second sword, moving to the center of the room. He closed his eyes, holding the swords at his sides before he began to move, like a dance, he spun and ducked, the swords spinning and twirling with precision and focus.

It began to make Mourena feel badly for watching him in such secrecy, however she feared moving in case she incited his wrath. As she watched, waiting until he had his back turned in mid strike before she began to shuffle towards the entrance. "Why do you lurk in the shadows," He drawled, "I _know_ your there." Mourena froze, sinking as far back into the shadow as possible. "Come out." He commanded, standing upright and turning his body so his eyes bore into her hiding place. Thranduil scanned the room, searching for her, finding her and watched her emerge from the shadows slowly, the light hitting her hair and face like a ghost might have, she looked pale and almost ashamed. "Why do you say nothing?"

Mourena stared at him, his eyes glistened with raw power, fueled by his practising and her own presence. She moved her slips slightly to the side, shaking her head and looking down. "I was not expecting you."

"No, I am sure you weren't." He drawled, stepping towards her. "Planning to run away?" He said, his eyes gauging her reactions, and she looked at him with an unamused expression. "Or meeting your lover?" The creature offered her a sword and she grasped the handle and their hands touched, which caused her to stop; hitching a breath as she looked at him directly once more.

"If the first, I would not get far." She replied, holding the sword within her right hand, feeling its weight and her horrible lack of knowledge about fighting. He raised his sword, taking position and she tried to remember what Eroiwn had told to her. She raised the sword and met his eyes and he smirked at her, turning his head.

"You don't think you can win do you?" He drawled, moving his sword and she responded and her sword clanked with his and she flinched.

"I hold no hope for myself." She said in response as they continued to move around the floor.

He was undoubtedly going easy on her, and she found it easy enough to keep up with the footsteps. It continued, the clanking and moving about, one an ill fit, and the other playing. It came to a place where by her sword was knocked out of her hand, the tip of Thranduil's blade under her chin. "And the second?" He asked, his eyes watching her own green one's flicker in the light, and the girl locked eyes with the king, a gentle flame lingered there.

"If the second," She said softly as he stepped closer, seeming to loom over her. "He -." He lowered his blade, and he straightened. Mourena stepped close, watching his eyes as she did so, touching his hair softly. "-is here before me." Removing her hand, she turned and picked up the sword that had been knocked away and she placed back on the rack. Thranduil watched her, and he followed her to the rack, replacing the sword a just as she did.

"There is an elf from Lorien that will accompany you to Rivendell." He drawled, stepping away. "I-"

"Stop talking Thranduil." She said, her voice flat, turning in his direction. "Your words mean nothing." She locked eyes with him, sighing softly. She moved past him, her words were also empty, needless…"Empty." Mourena whispered as she walked out the door, headed for her chamber, fighting back the tears that loomed. As she rounded a corner, she bumped into a body and a face stared at her, solemn. "Pardon me." She nodded her head and walked on, the elf stared at her, his green eyes shining as he walked her walk away.


	20. The Moon's Daughter

**Thank you for all your reviews! I really appreciate it! I love hearing what you all think. So here is the next chapter, anyway. Please read, review and enjoy! **

Her hand was raised on the door, wrapping her knuckles on the door announcing her arrival and the door swung open. The blond elf stood, bowing his head to her and she smiled back at him as he welcomed her inside. She was aware of his stature, a warrior, with grey eyes that watched her as she sat down. "Pray, sit, please there is no need to be formal." Mourena spoke first, "I fear my position is too slowly to acquire that to which you pay me."

"Not at all." The elf said, sitting opposite. "I have long desired to meet you, our passing earlier did not allow for proper introductions. I am called Haldir."

"Fortunate to meet you, I am called Mourena." Her mind flashed to her conversation days previous and smiled, lowering her head, "But born Imίdel. That name is not used." Raising her head she smiled softly once more, nerves stirring within her.

"Eroiwn told me much of you." Haldir replied, his green eyes watching those opposite, seeing something within their depths he understood. "He spoke of a rare creature that has fallen away from our eyes." Mourena offered him a confused facial expression and shook her head. "I speak of your lineage, your bloodline."

"My bloodline?" She questioned, "Journeying to Rivendell is not your reason?"

"Not entirely." Haldir replied, "Impressions have been given."

"Cryptic notions they may be," Mourena responded, "but I do not like them."

"I have been commissioned to do so." Haldir replied, "By my Lady." Mourena watched him and felt herself bristle.

"And conclusions have you drawn?" Mourena asked, her green eyes seemed to blaze in the light as she sat there. "Have you found me to be significantly lacking?"

"I have found not equal the edlin and eldarin blood." Haldir replied and Mourena's mouth created a firm line. "Eroiwn himself believed as such, and asked me to confirm." Something flashed across her eyes and Haldir saw anger there, a form of betrayal and temper. "If all proves true, then you are a descendant of a Lόrien Prince." Mourena looked at him, she felt anger towards Eroiwn and severe distrust, and his story, even if she had some elfish within her, she doubted severely that is mattered in any way. "Pray, tell me yours mother's name?"

"Her name was Gilmith." Mourena said.

"In Edhellond." Halide spoke, for a moment, to himself. "Do you know the name Mithrellas?" Mourena nodded, her red hair tumbling over her shoulder, curls waving long over her collarbone. "She was a Nandorian elf who fled Lothlόrien more than an age ago, she travelled with seven companions; one of which was an elf maiden Nimrodel. A fair and beautiful maiden of Lothlόrien, Nimrodel was believed to be engaged to Amroth, a Prince of Lόrien. But she was separated from the rest, and Mithrellas was found Imrzaor, a human prince, and had two children; Galador and Gimlith. Mithrellas disappeared after her children were born, along with her daughter, and as such nothing is known about Gilmith. They ceased to be real, turning into legend." Mourena listened and but hew lower lip, shaking her head as she thought of it all while he continued. "The legend around Nimrodel is unclear, for she and Mithrellas alone were separated from her companions. Where she went and what happened to her is myth, only the Valar know." Haldir explained, leaning back in his chair. "However, we heard tale from an elf that past Lόrien not long ago. This tale told how Nimrodel came to find she was with child, and that is what prompted her to leave rather than fear of the Balrog. Her companions, upon discovery of her marriage to Amroth, displaced her - and she them - to find her way to the Gates. However, she nor her child reached their destination, for once her child was born and aged slightly, she came to a river lighted by moonlight and perchance she looked up. Dazzled by starlight, an old magic rose within her and she fell into a sleep so long that it ensnared her for an age; for when she woke her son was fully grown and aged to maturity. It follows that awakening, a broke her heart, for she had missed her beloved and was lost to him forever. Years after, she passed from this world, returning to her love."

Mourena found tears in her eyes as she listened and she was fearful of wiping them away, her lips trembled and she found her brow furrowed, great pain within her heart. "How awful, to have slept through meeting your loved one."

"You do not comprehend." Haldir said, his eyes also misty. "Half an age went by before she woke, and this place by the river became over run with trees and wilderness that it became a forest of its own" Mourena shuddered and wiped her eyes, taking rapid breaths. "It is a very deep magic, a weakness for starlight and desire that makes it so, a powerful magic that when drawn, few can resist."

"Pray explain your meaning." Mourena said finally,, growing tired.

"Imidil, daughter of Gilmith, daughter of Mithrellas."

"Gimlith was my mother, would there not be many who share such a name?"

Haldir touched her knee softly, and the girl looked at him with unsure eyes. "There are no others born half elven by that name, nor another by Amidel. Nimrodel bore the gift of foresight, her son also. But there is something more. Gilmith was reported to take after her father, with blond hair and eyes of the deepest green. There are few but few of the Noldor that possess red hair. Mithrellas and her kin were Nadorian, where Nimrodel was one of the Galadhrim - elves with the blood of the Noldor, Sindar and Silvan. It is most likely that it is this part of your heritage that gives your hair such a startling colour." Haldir stood, clasping his hands behind his back, "I must guess to what came next, but I do believe that my Lady will agree with me." He said and Mourena looked away, her own history being told back to her. "When she woke, to find her son was much grown and much in love with a peredhil, or a half elf, Nimrodel displeased the match, but the marriage was already consummated, a son had been born. A daughter was also born, and she was not elf like at all, she did not own the features with which we covet. He described the child as having wild curly red hair, and eyes like emeralds. When the child was seven, she wandered to the river place and was lost, not to be found." Mourena watched the elf carefully, shaking her head as he continued. "I believe that her fate was the same as her grandmother's, starlight had ensnared the child - with no respite given - leaving her to sleep for near half an age, while upon waking, had none of the teachings of the elves, and her mother had long past while her brother searched for her, believing her to be dead. Alas one day, this child in slumber found, and taken. I believe then that she was taken to Fangorn Forest, to Mithrellas, whose skill in healing was known to all, and it was she who told her brother what to do. Mithrellas and Nimrodel greatly mistrusted the elves in Lothlόrien, and I believe that this is why the child's brother did not go there for help, instead taking his sister back to Fangorn forest when she woke."

"You mean to say that I slept for five hundred years?" Mourena asked, bewildered.

"Eight hundred and fifty-three." Haldir responded, watching the half elf rise, touching her chest.

"I know nothing as to that, just that my mind felt heavy and foreboding for so long." She said, "But this neither comforts me nor adds to my malcontent. I do not properly know the age when I fell asleep"

"That is understandable, for it is much the despair." Haldir replied, "I believe that is why my Lady was concerned, and brought me here to ascertain that certainty, based on this report."

"Does this hold value of some kind, that makes it important?" Mourena asked, her heart was in her chest, if she was this old without knowing it, how many other things had become blurred.

"You have much to learn, much that can be learned." Haldir said, stepping towards her and touching her head, lifting her chin from its downcast state. "Rivendell can offer you much, as well as Lothlόrien. You lineage provides a basis for great accomplishment and education. Your kin founded Lohlorien, long before Lady Galadriel came to reside there - a lineage sorely missed within the forest. And your choice can be made."

"My choice?" She asked, her eyes flickering on his face.

"You can choose to remain mortal, your spirit shall endure with the spirit of men. Immortality is the other choice, your soul remaining with the elves." He replied, keeping the information simple, seeing the exhaustion on her face.

"This is much to take in." She said, moving away. "Comprehension is easy to me, it is the application." Haldir offered her a bow as she slipped out the door, she felt shaken. But the gaps in her mind filled in, and the possession of her knowledge made sense. She walked, _elfish descent, long term sleeping issues,_ her mind spun with what she had lost.

Looking around, she found herself to have been walking in such a way that she had come to his door, Thranduil's door. She pressed her ear to the wood, and heard nothing, her fingers clasping around the handle and it opened. Slipping inside, she shut the door behind her, turning to embrace the room. It was large, the bath steaming and the smell came to her and seemed to ease her tears. She removed her dress and under dress, placing it in a folded pile and she slipped her body into the water.

Mourena stood until she had to float in the water, allowing herself to placed her whole being under the water, holding her breathe and feeling heavy, the very essence of her worries seemed to still. Pushing herself upwards, her face rising from the water, her skin felt wholesome and free. She refused to open her eyes, remembering every moment, every place of his touch and his helpfulness. Moving to that section, she felt for the bottle he had used and she found it, opening it and smelling the contents. She washed, remembering the pleasant moments and it pained her to think he was avoiding her, sending her away.

Submerging herself once again, letting the suds wash away. Rising, she opened her eyes, making for the stairs. As she rose, she wrung her hair out, letting her body air dry before putting the undergarments on. She felt tired, it had been a long day, and she looked over to his bed. It was large, and she touched the chest he had dressed from. The sheets were a silver and purple colour, trimmed in a deep orange. As she felt the familiar softness, she saw strands of hair upon the pillow, glittering silver. She sat on the edge of the great bed, touching the strands as she decided how long she should linger.

As she sat, she felt sleep coming to her heavily and she pulled her body on the bed, laying her head on the pillow, grasping the strands in her hands and clutching them to her chest. Curling into the fetal position she tightened her grip on the hair, as thin and low in number she cared not, for it was something of his. The smell of him was alluring, dangerous; for this love of hers was fresh and new, unbridled and building in strength. A thought dawned within her, her mortality was fallacy, but few knew it unless they spent time with her, real time, not fleeting moments. Knowing the soul did not mean knowing the mind, the creature possessing the thoughts. Her morality might have been what made him change so rashly, or his own unpredictable thoughts. Perhaps he was as frightened as she was. As these thoughts pooled within her mind, she fell within a dreamless sleep.


	21. As One

**Thank you for the continued support, reviews really help me gauge how this is all going! Here is the next chapter, so; please read, review and enjoy! J**

The mighty King walked to his chamber in earnest. He great disliked Haldir, he was too much calm and influenced by the Lord and Lady for a Silvan elf, but more than that, he took great interest in the girl. Thranduil knew she must leave, as much for her own sake, as wanting to disparage his own foolish emotions. Entering his chamber, he removed the outer layer of his tunic, moving to the center of the room before he saw her. Like a ghost she lay, still and quiet, curled as child would on the blankets and pillows, her red hair slowly drying, curling as it did so. He stilled, his eyes absorbing everything he saw, as if it was a fleeting moment that would not last.

Stepping forward, he placed tunic on the chest, coming to stand by the side she occupied, her chest rose and fell in peace, her pale skin glowing against the colours. He leaned over her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, stroking the head of the creature that slept so soundly. She clutched something to his chest, and he saw it was a few strains of his own hair. The icy eyes that watched her slowly thawed, her shoulders were as broad as her hips and divided by a slender waist. Her skin could be seen easily, the curve of her lower back, her thighs; strong and long, yet soft to touch in ways most tender men could not even appreciate. He sat lightly beside her, placing a hand on the other side of her, leaning on it so he could watch the gentle curl of her lips form a smile in his mind.

Thranduil found himself within her peacefulness, the calm that settled seemed to pacify his restless mind. His right hand touched her cheek softly, this ghost was surely a dream, a faraway dream he had concocted to fill the void in his soul. For all his years, he had not felt something like or as strong, all caused by a little blind child that wandered within his wood. Running his hand onto her neck, he felt a growl in his throat, her own smell was mixed with the ones of the room, her skin was soft and his hand fit within the boundaries of her curves as his hand traced the shape of her skin.

"Be not a dream," She whispered, her voice soft like a summer breeze as it made its way from the water to the land. "Be it, pray, do not wake me." Slowly she raised a hand, it reached out to touch the ghost that lingered within her mind, and she felt the air move slowly around her, warmth and temper filled her. The King leaned in, his lips touching her shoulder, his smell flooding within her as hers did much the same. Her fingers curled and touched the silky strands of hair, her arm resting gently on his back as if he would break if she placed weight on him. His lips moved to her neck, and the warrior King seemed to vanish into something tender, like a dove. Moving her right hand to his neck, she felt the strands of hair she clutched fall, landing on the bed as she felt the smooth skin, its warmth and alluring call.

His own sapphire eyes closed, her fingers running down his neck to his chest, the delicate touch sent waves to his heart, and it beat in such rapid succession. The pain of separation lingered on, and he swept her into his arms like a giant lifting a small stone, her dress seemed to billow about her as she sat up, this creature within his arms, her hair surrounding them as her head became nestled within his neck, her hands both on his head. They stayed, a pause in time making passion build, the fire growing with them both until the flame would not be drowned out. Opening his eyes slowly, he lowered his chin just as she opened her own jeweled eyes meet his gaze with her own, the flame reflected in their eyes. Bringing a hand to her cheek, he brought his lips to hers, a soft tender passion there, and she returned the gesture and the feeling. The beating of their hearts seemed to fill the room as the two lovers entered point with no turning back, a moment of binding.

Holding her, he stood, his feet touching the floor as her own did, their lips leaving one another. The white dress seemed to float away, following the directions of his hands, his garments seemed to dissolve under her touch. His eyes never left her own, two jewels shining in the night as he stepped closer once again, bending slightly and wrapping a hand around her waist, lifting her up once more. She kissed as he did so, her legs fastening around him as he moved to the center of the bed. He placed her head gently on the pillows, his lips finding ways to make her shudder as he placed his weight on her; his warmth filled her soul as their hearts seemed to steady. His muscles seemed to move under her touch, their bodies writhing together for an age, fueling the flame.

As they made love, there was no tension, no fear, but two hearts whose rhythm matched entirely. Where once he was fierce, he was tender, causing sensations she never know were possible. His skin felt every movement she made, each touch seemed to make him growl, his senses filled with pleasure he had not truly felt before. When they joined, there was no pain, and the act was complete, the fire burned hotter and brighter with each movement. His eyes bore into her own, listening to her heart and the breaths escape her lips while his fingers encased her own, or became tangled in her hair. As she watched him, she saw his eye lids flutter as the end became near, and she found her hands on his back, moving into his hair as they found their breaths stop, an unknown movement ripped through them.

As they lay there, trying to steady their hearts, their minds were calm. Wiping a tear from his face, she touched her nose with his, her eyes reflecting back what she felt for him. He smiled, it was soft and tender while his heart fluttered about like a tiny bird, and she felt a tear fall from her eyes. She not had seen him smile since her sight had come clear, it was such a sight to behold. He moved, his body shifting to the side, his hands grasping blankets and bringing them over the lovers. The King drew her close to him, covering her in blankets, her small hand on his face as they settled within the depths of the bed.

* * *

Morning came and the dream had ended, the King awoke with the girl in his arms, their skins, smells and dreams were each other's. As the sun rose within his mind, he knew the laws were certain, he was bound to her, by marriage. They would need a ceremony, but regardless of anything else, they were each other's. By Valar, there was no escaping it, even if this child did not understand, it was so. Thranduil knew she must still leave, even if it was to Rivendell and back, she had to learn about the world more so. Yet he pushed the thought of her departure to the back of his mind, how could he explain what this act meant, the bonds it carried and the duties she would now have. This creature, would she really be Princess to his lands? Thranduil touched her gently, such a dream it had been, a force so strong that death could not break it. He would treasure it, this memory when they joined for the first time, all acts of merging now done.

The mighty elf kissed her forehead as she stirred softly, the emerald eyes watched him quietly, a soft smile on her face as she touched his lips gently. "Pray, what type of ghost appears before me?"

"There is no ghost, little bird." Thranduil drawled softly, touching her cheek, "Nor a dream." Her smile widened, her arms going around his torso and she kissed him softly.

"You do not jest," She whispered as she pulled away, reopening her eyes. "It is my Lord Thranduil."

"It is that which makes you call me respectfully, once I have truly made you my own." He jested, and she blushed as she watched him.

"I do not believe you would have been so taken with me if I had not shown I could resist you." She replied and he smiled once more, his sapphire eyes glistening.

"What shall I do with such a child," He asked, propping himself up on an arm as he let his fingers roam. "When she crawls into my arms like a flightless bird?" He touched her cheek, and she leaned her head against his arm, her fingers playing with his hair. "A scream in the darkness brought this bird to me, injured she rejected me and injured still she began caged with my mind."

She watched him carefully, "It was you, who secured my rescue?" He answered her with his calmness, his soul telling her it was so and she smiled softly and touched his face with a sheepish grin. "Blind I might have been, but your likeness within my mind gave me strength, and I was not afraid."

"And now they shall call you Princess." He drawled, his fingers tracing the lines of her stomach and her eyes flickered with surprise.

"Why, pray?"

"It is the custom," He said softly, his eyes reassuring, "Marriage is not a vow here, but the joining of two bodies and souls. By Valar, we are one. Here you shall remain until age has taken you from me." Her eyes narrowed and her smiled faded.

"I do not,-" She started, the story seemed to fade about in her mind. "-possess such a trait." He turned his head, waiting for her to explain.

"Adar (father)," Legolas called, opening the door too soon after knocking. The elf froze, his eyes seeing and understanding flooded him with both surprise and alarm. The King turned his head, his eyes icy for the intrusion, the secret would out before the day. "There is a message from a scout, of Laketown." Thranduil took a breath, preparing to speak as Eroiwn came up behind the Prince, his eyes seeing the clothing of a woman within the chamber.

"Can this not wait," The King drawled, his body shifting to protect the creature who was about to be exposed. He sat up, to face them, his broad chest and muscles covered by his hair. "I am sure we already expect the outcome."

"I think you do not" Legolas said, stepping further inward, seeing the red hair and flashing his father a look. "The dragon has been killed." Thranduil's eyes widened slightly, a task so near impossible completed. "The dwarves may yet be alive, we do not know." Handing his father a robe, the other elf stood, placing the remaining blankets on his lover as he encased himself.

"We shall speak of this within the hall, I shall attend within minutes. Leave me." Thranduil drawled, Eroiwn bowed and retreated while Legolas did not budge, seeing the girl as she sat up, clutching blankets to her chest as she looked from father to son, bowing her head to Legolas. Thranduil watched her and she looked at him with expectancy of some form. "Legolas, leave me." The elf turned and briskly walked away, shutting the door as he did so.

"I should go," She said, her voice unsure, "My chamber is not far."

"Remain here." He said, his voice strong but soft as he dressed, and she watched him, admiring his strength and beauty. He caught her gaze and approached her as she stood from the bed, a blanket around her. "Do remain." He drawled, "Imίdel, I shall return." He kissed her, and the hungry between them returned. "Pray do not dress, or I shall be greatly displeased." He said as broke the kiss, walking to the door and leaving, the air seemed to chill without him, but she smiled, sitting on the bed as she waited.


	22. March with Me

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Half a day had passed before Thranduil had returned, and his eyes shone with malcontent. As he gazed about the room, the lady was there, sitting and looking upwards were the smallest of sunlight peaked through. She had dressed in light garments, and she turned her head in his direction, her eyes searching for what ailed him. "Come," He said extending a hand, and she did not move, "Aiwë (small bird), come to me now." The lady looked back up at the sky and then to her hands, which seemed more interesting than his own hand. "There is something we must discuss." He drawled, stepping toward her and she rose, a soft smile on her lips. He helped her dress, his hands gentle as he cinched the corset, relinquishing some of the tightness when she gasped in pain, kissing her head when he finished. Ordaining her shoulders with a robe, they descended into the halls.

Some of the elves they passed gave her short bows, and the feeling within her bubbled against it, but she guessed that the entire palace must know about what had transpired. The door were opened for them, and they descended into the woods, the sun casting shadows and the trees seem to whisper. Hearing a footstep behind him them, the King turned his head slightly, whereby his guest turned around, offering a smile to Legolas. "My Lord," She bowed her head, "I did not know you were joining us."

"It was not intended," Thranduil drawled, turning his head to face the forest and started walking again.

"I felt it was necessary." Legolas said, giving her a bow and she faltered.

"Why do you bow to me, my Lord? You owe me no such gratification." Mourena replied, taking his hand and giving him a reassuring look.

"Aiwë," Thranduil spoke, and she turned her head to face him, "He bows because you are my wife." A heat rose on her cheeks, and the emerald eyes flickered to Legolas with uncertainty. "It is his duty."

"Surely not." She said, "He is your son, he shall not bow to me, for I am not his equal." Walking over to the elven King, she took his arm, entwining their fingers and covering their hands with her own.

"It would be wrong of me not to," Legolas replied as he walked by their side. "But it shall remain between the three of us, this change, until the ceremony." Mourena looked to Thranduil, whose face seemed blank, but his eyes were stormy. "It is custom. The Kingdom will be told you are betrothed, since it would have greatly dishonoured Aran(king) Thranduil if you were now his wife."

"I understand." She responded, ducking her head as she thought. The King was unaware of her heritage, her bloodline being what it is, and being married to a human must be an unnatural happening.

"We ride for the town of Dale at dawn." Thranduil drawled, his fingers giving her own a squeeze. "The town is destroyed, and we march toward Erebor."

"To fight?" She asked, her mind full of the images of the future she had seen, and also of her lover, distressed at a great occurrence.

"I doubt it will come to that." Legolas said, and she furrowed her brow, an action that was not unnotived. "What ails you?" Thranduil watched her, and she shook her head and looked up at the King.

"Something dark crosses my mind, I fear." She offered, "It would be wise to march prepared."

"You need not be worried, aiwe, if the dwarves live there shall be no blood shed. They are a thick headed lot, but such a small number will not attempt war with elves." Thranduil responded and turned his head back to the forest. "I shall ride with 1500 of my kin, and we shall obtain what is owed to us, and then return. Then-" He drawled, "-shall we plan our wedding for when you return from Rivendell."

Shock flashed in her eyes and anger. "You still send me away. Even now?"

"It is not forever, aiwë," Thranduil responded softly, "There are things Lord Elrond can teach you, show you, and by that time, our wedding will be of thing of great celebration."

Mourena turned her face away, something troubled her much more than the ignorance at her heritage. "Are you staying to help people of Laketown rebuild their homes?"

"It is not planned." Thranduil drawled, aware of her discomfort. "They will do as they please, nothing vast has changed. They have much to look forward to."

"They have lost everything, yet you go for purely selfish reasons." She said softly. "I do not understand how such a thing exists."

"You have too much love for the human race, aiwë," Thranduil drawled softly, touching her hair, letting her hand go as he did so. "They will rebuild, and all will be well."

"When am I to go to Rivendell?" She asked, the emeralds searching his own misty sapphires for answers. He touched her cheek softly, and Legolas saw a glimmer of reluctance in his father's eyes.

"Soon. I expect them back before three days have passed." The King responded, and a look of hurt flashed in her eyes.

"I am to go without saying goodbye, or even to know if you are safe?" Mourena questioned, and his eyes gave her the answer. He was not pleased with the arrangement, she saw, but he was going to insist. "Will you promise me something?"

"Meldanya ná." He responded. He smiled softly and translated, "It is so, my beloved."

"Take with you your armour, and be on your guard." Mourena said, glancing to both the elves that stood near her. Thranduil watched her, she was serious, and there was a worried expression in her eyes that she hid with a soft smile. _She has a gift, I think. _The words rang in his mind, and he thought back to the seven days ago when they were said. "Please."

"We shall." Legolas spoke, and the lady smiled at him openly. They started walking again, and the calmness of the forest made the quell in her heart fade slightly. She thought not about telling Thranduil that she would not age like a human, that her soul could be bound to his forever, but it seemed more appropriate a gift for later. Before long, moonlight seemed to rise and the three turned back toward the door, enjoying pleasant conversation of elvish words. Her knowledge of such were lacking, little pieces of her memory brought back words in pieces, and she did not want to give away her surprise. She wondered how he would feel when he learned, would he rejoice and become elated, or be angry for keeping it from her, or become childish and sulk at his own mistake. The thought made her smile as they reached the door, and she was brought to the dinner hall, where she where she was to be seated on his right hand side, Legolas on his left.

There was a grand feast prepared, and many elves stood there, awaiting their King's announcement. "My kin, tonight we have cause for great joy." Thranduil drawled, entering the room, a servant removing his outside robe, another taking one from Mourena and she thanked the elf.

"After many years, adar nin (my father) has been guiding us alone, sacrificing for us so we may live in peace." Legolas said, stepping forward. "It is my honour to announce that no longer may he wander alone." All the faces in the room fell on them, Mourena looked at them all and saw Haldir was to be standing next to where she was to be seated. "Valar valuvar. (The will of the Valar be done)" He said, lifting a nearby glass, and the rest repeated, drinking while Thranduil placed her at her seat, signalling the rest to do the same. Eroiwn sat opposite, and his dark eyes seemed uneasy, yet pleased at the occurrence, and Mourena gave him a small look, shrugging and then smiling, heat rising on her cheeks as she began to eat.

* * *

Sitting within her chamber, she frowned, a weight seemed to linger within her. True, she had seen no death in his future, but the people of Laketown had nothing, and she had seen fighting. She did not know when, or where, but she felt ill that a chance might occur when something may befall him. If he was injured, what would occur then? A knock came at her door, and she strode over, wrapping a robe around her, somehow now more aware of decorum. The silver hair and sapphire eyes met her and she opened her door as he stepped inside. She shut the door, offering him a smile and he touched her face. "What troubles you, meldanya?"

Mourena shook her head and felt the heat on her face. "I do not like farewells." She replied, touching his face gently. "Shall we say farewell now, so that no tears are shed?"

"Aiwë," Thranduil drawled, "Short will be the time until we see each other once more. Fear not." He kissed her head, touching her hair softly. This little bird no longer had a broken wing, and while separation bothered his heart, true distance was not real, since she would return to him. "I shall send a party of my kin to obtain you from Rivendell, to ensure the journey home is safe."

"All is well, my love." She said, "Go, sleep, be this our farewell." She kissed him softly, her hands lingered on his face. "Mára mesta meldanya (Goodbye my beloved)." She smiled, at using the words Legolas had taught her. He kissed her once more, opening the door and retreating back to his own chamber. Her smile faded with his footsteps, and she waited until no sound was near. Opening her door, she walked until she reached Eroiwn's chamber, knocking lightly.

The elf opened the door and his surprise was immediate, but he bowed his head and let her in. "My lady-"

"Eroiwn." She said, looking at him harshly. "Why did you not tell me, if you suspected such a thing of me? Why did I learn this from a stranger?"

"It was not confirmed." Eroiwn said softly, watching her. "You have told adan (king) Thranduil." The lasy shook her head and the elf watched her with furrowed brows. "What is your reason?"

"I have none, since it was only just told to me. I think the surprise will please him." She replied, touching her chest. "I did not come here to battle over this matter. Do you leave at dawn with the rest?"

"Yes, I travel with the rest of my kin." The elf replied, asking her to sit.

She did, but felt unwise to confide in her friend. "I mean to ask something of you, do I have your secrecy?"

"Something serious should not be secret." He replied, but he confirmed his word and she sighed in relief.

"When do you march tomorrow?" She asked, her voice stern and quiet.

"As soon as the dawn touched the trees, we march for the Mountain." Eroiwn replied, not understanding, and not wanting to know her answer.

"I am going with you."


	23. A Vision

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Her chest had been bound down, so tight that a corset would have brought her more pleasure, and her braid had been braided tightly as so the helmet fit over her head. Blocks in her boots brought her to their heights, and she felt the tightness of the quiver as it was strapped to her chest, a sword hitched tightly to her hip, a dagger attached to her right side. The tunic was brown and the leggings were green, the golden robe over her shoulders did nothing for her confidence at this escapade, but she liked the look. Eroiwn finished attaching his own sword and he turned to her, his eyes dark and angered dwelled there deep within. "Stay by me, at all times. If anything occurs to harm you, I shall not forgive myself." He said in a hushed tone as they joined the ranks. "Nor will arannίn (my king) forgive me." He whispered to himself as they were soon joined by the rest of their kin. The mighty King stood, his head adorned by a small white crown of a twisted nature, and Mourena's eyes narrowed seeing it and she dropped her gaze to the ground lest he feel the worry within her. He gave a hand gesture as he mounted a giant beast, an elk of some sort, and Mourena found the rhythmic movements of the footsteps soothing as she marches with them. As she walked, she thought of Eroiwn, and her vision blurred.

_Eroiwn was standing with a small group of elves, terrified screams echoed behind them as great creatures seemed to emerge from everywhere, and the elves raised their swords and shields. Eroiwn seemed to turn his head and speak, his eyes angry and also fearful, seeing hundreds of little creatures swarm the place. A voice seemed to shout at him, and he handed the person a totem, before running toward the field, where the majority of people resided. The image blurred again, and she saw Eroiwn running, a name crying out on his lips, his sword slashing down enemies with a fury, as he reached his destination. Up above on a stone tower, a creature let loose an arrow, and its target's make it would find._ Her image blurred once more, and she saw him, _but he was different, a peaceful calm seemed to surround him. A woman with long golden hair turned, her smile was infectious and the elf returned it as she extended her arm to him. He walked to her, and embraced her, touching her hair with affection before turning and walking the halls._

"Imίdel" Eroiwn whispered, using a name that the others did not know, and she blinked and her eyes flickered at him, and she wiped the tears on her face and nodded, facing frontwards. "What brings this?"

"I dare not say." She said softly, the march would continue regardless. She did not want to give him any pain, nor worry his mind for something that might not come to pass for an age. After all, she did not know what the future held, or when these images would happen. Her thoughts turned back to Haldir, whom she had deserted, and Lord Elrond. She sent a quiet farewell to them, and hoped they would forgive her for leaving with no notice. She also thought of the Lady Galadriel, and she wished her mission successful, and her return speedy with no harm. _May the Valar protect you_, she heard within her mind, and she focused and the image of the grand angel entered within.

_How is this possible?_

_"It is sanwe-layta, thought opening_."

_"Then this is the Lady Galadriel speaking, not my own creation?"_

_"It is, you called for me. This is the power of elves."_

_"You feel tired, I pray it went well."_

_"Evil has fled from the fortress to the South, but I fear it shall return."_

_"I believe you shall meet it in battle, though when I can not say."_

_"What have you seen?"_

_"The wood invaded by orcs and other creatures, both Lόrien and the Greenwood. You and Thranduil, standing side by side, preparing for a great battle in the wood."_

_"And his fate?"_

_"I see no death in him. I saw him on a boat afterwards, but again the time I can not say."_

_"Something worries you."_

_"Yes."_

_"You love him."_

_"Yes."_

_"Yet you are afraid."_

_'What can I offer him, my Lady. I think you guessed before he what my nature was, therefore you can see I have nothing to give. I possess so great talent, water nor wood moves to my command, no great knowledge rests on my shoulders. I have slept my way past the years, when I should be somewhat wise, I am no more than a mortal man, yet I have lived longer in my dreamless state."_

_"You can not see what you possess."_

_"I fear that what I possess - is a mere fallacy, the moment it will become realized will be short and fleeting."_

_"You distrust my words?"_

_"I distrust myself to believe them, for they give me hope of things I can not dream of."_

_"Things that have not yet come to pass will transform you, you must trust yourself as others do."_

_"Will you forgive my departure?"_

_"There is nothing to forgive, Lord Elrond foresaw this, I feared leaving you alone in that place while you were still too weak to understand."_

_"You know what has transpired between Thranduil and I?"_

_"I do, I saw it within him, you are connected to each other with a force beyond what you may control. I saw it in your father and his father before them._

_"You knew them?"_

_"I knew your grandfather well, he was a friend, his only fault was loving an elf maiden too much to care for his own safety, but they are joined now in the Halls of Mandos within Valinor. He possessed great kindness, for he was a Prince of Lόrien. Your father I met by another name, and he remained with us for a time before journeying to Rivendell."_

_"He is not with my mother?"_

_"Your mother chose to remain with the spirits of men, to rejoin her father and brother. That is but your choice as well."_

_"When must I choose?"_

_"You may delay, that is also your choice."_

_"I feel inadequate to choose, for he is too grand for me."_

_'Your lineage is not poor, Imίdel. You are born from Telerin elves, those who became Nandor became Green Elves of the wood. They were the third of the Eldar, they stayed behind to search for their missing king, Thingol as he is now called, and they greatly loved the sea. Many a Telerin elf was slain in the Kingslaying by Nöldor. But after a time all was forgiven. You father came from the line of Galadhrim, blood of the Noldor, Sindar and Silvan pulses through your veins Fear not your ancestry, you are a quarter of man, you have mostly the blood of the Eldarin within you. It will serve you well."_

_"My Lady, I pray I may see you once more."_

_"You are not afraid of what strength within my presence."_

_"No, I find comfort in it."_

_"You are much like your grandfather in that way. Go now, we shall meet again."_

It was nightfall now, and she neither felt the ground nor the weight of sleep on her shoulders. They had travelled a great deal, and Eroiwn kept looking at her strangely. Elves do not need sleep, merely a form of meditation, and they marched long and strong. She did not know how much energy she had used by talking to the great lady, but the strain on her was much. As they walked, she touched Eroiwn's hand lightly. He gave her a look of alarm and she smiled weakly, not wanting to draw attention. "Tell me, do you have a wife?"

"Cuilë." The elf responded, his memory flickering to her. She was tall and graceful, a golden haired creature of song and dance, and of great medicine. She had been in since with the wood and knew each plant by emotion.

"She is in Valinor, is she not?"

Eroiwn blinked at her and indicated she was. "How did you perceive?"

"You never talked of someone, yet you seemed to know my anguish at being torn from the one I love." She replied as they marched, careful not to give way her secret to the others. "You must miss her."

"I know I shall be with her again, all is not lost." He replied, looking up the sky and watching the stars. "I know she waits for me there."

"Will you tell me of her?"

"She would love you, surely. She was the kindest creature, she moved with light and song, and my heart was always filled with dance and music. Cuilë lived in Lorien for a time after the War of Wrath, and she grew to know Lord Ninnor's daughter, Lythil. I travelled there as a youth to learn medicine, and I fell in love with her. Her eyes glittered like silver gems, her eyes were gray, her hair pure gold. We used to walk in the wood, and she often sang for me. It pained me greatly to leave for home, and I worried her heart might be swayed elsewhere lest I return." The elf explained, and the young elf-girl listened carefully. "It was King Thranduil who urged me to go to her, to clasp her tight to my chest and never let her go. And so, I rode to Lorien, and she consented to be my wife. We have a daughter."

"You have never said."

"There was much time to talk about such things." Eroiwn replied softly, "It has been a blink of time that you have been with us."

"Time does not seem so short for me." She replied in kind. "What is her name?"

"Mίdhaer, in common tongue it means Rosemary." Eroiwn revealed, pride resting in his affectionate gaze. "Dew of the sea."

"How lovely." Mourena mused, imaging what she must look like, "She does not live within the Greenwood?"

"She is in Rivendell, to study from Lord Elrond. She greatly wishes to become like her mother." The elf responded, a soft smile on his face.

"I shall meet her then, when I go."

"You shall, if the Lord and Lady will still take you."

"Lady Galadriel has no ill will at my leaving." She replied, her eyes seeing a great mountain looming before her. "How many days have we marched?"

"Two, we shall be at the city of Dale soon enough. It is a ruin now." Eroiwn stated, seeing the look on the young lady's face made him smile with amusement. "King Thranduil is not blind to their needs, he has brought a heavy number of supplies, food and many items to help them rebuild. It is not all lost."

"I am glad of it." She said, a smile forming on her face as they walked along, but it faded quickly as she felt her connection with Thranduil tug, her joy had leaked through and she gazed at the ground, trying to block him out.

The King, on his great megaloceros, turned his head back to look at his kin. Something within was not right, but he could see anything amiss. Mourena's presence was strong, for a moment, he felt as if she was alongside him. He set his icy blue eyes on the group, there was no one of that height there, no shape overly feminine, as was hers. He saw no long red hair, or green eyes watching him. Turning back around, he saw Legolas give him a look, and he made a soft gesture that assured his son nothing was wrong. Thranduil touched his chest, he himself longing for her, and he called for her, but got no response. He made him smile, she was a willful creature and he suspected she was not what she seemed. He had taken great care to watch her, she healed better than a normal human when she had lain in his cells, and she had possessed the ability to see him within her mind when he called to her. Her ears also held soft points that were noticeable to him, and after Galadriel's visit he had become curious.

"The Great King suspected she was half elf, a child who had just come of age, given her lack of knowledge. However, she had believed in her own mortality to the extent that he worried she was only a quarter eldarin blood, which meant she lacked the choice of the half elves. It saddened him to think of her being separated from him, but at least her mortality would extend until a lengthy age. He had decided whether or not it was worth it, and come to find he would sail not sooner than a year after she had passed on. As Erebor became no longer a distant shadow, he heard the speech of men in the old ruin of Dale, and he clicked the elf forward, Legolas riding with him, the rest of the kin given a signal to hold back.

"Who goes there?" A man's voice shouted. "Who comes?"

"News reached me of your plight, I have brought food and supplies." Thranduil drawled, his face coming into view of the man. Thranduil watched his face carefully, it seemed familiar. Dark hair with tanned skin, his eyes strong and good. "You resemble Girion, you are his kin."

"King Thranduil." Bard replied, "Well met, forgive my harshness. You are most welcome." The man offered the King a bow before standing. "I am a relative of Girion, tis true. My name is Bard, my Lord."

"You are the dragon slayer." Thranduil drawled, his eyes watching the man.

"I am, but that matters not. Please, bring you in." Bard offered, and the King raised his hand to his kin and they started to march into Dale.

"We shall not camp within the city, but within the basin." Thranduil drawled.

"Understood, my Lord. We appreciate it greatly." Bard replied, men and women gathered to receive the goods as the elves entered. Faces flashed before Mourena's face that seemed familiar in her mind, and she nudged Eroiwn softly. The King raised a hand, and the small army stopped, and began to filter around the wagons of good at the back of the march, handing out food to the people who gathered.

"Do not thank me, your thanks lies with another." Thranduil responded, looking toward the Mountain and thinking of Thorin and his crew. "I shall require 30 volunteers to stay and unload, the rest with me." Thranduil drawled, and Mourena stayed behind, moving to the wagons with Eroiwn. As the rest of the elves moved, she happily unpacked the goods, the relief and appreciation on the faces made her heart sing.

Women, men and children all came, eager for food, drink and a tender bit of kindness. Eroiwn caught often the glow of Mourena's smile as she would hand a person the parcel with which they could sustain themselves through the cold autumn night. She worked until the last package was given out, with no complaint or weariness. However there was always more to do, and some of the supplies needed to be taken indoors - kept dry and safe from the they were finished, the other elves had rejoined their kin, she and Eroiwn helped the last of the people carry the goods indoors, and Mourena removed her helmet, wiping her face of the perspiration.

"A lady elf. I did not know King Thranduil rode with his female king." A voice came from behind her, and she turned to meet Bard, her eyes shining at him within the dimly lit room. He offered her a smile, pleased to find one of Thranduil's kin agreeable in looks and temper.

"Nor does he." Her reply was immediate and light hearted, no harsh words did she offer him, "-and nor is he likely to know."

"A stowaway." Bard mused, watching the lady as she placed her helmet down, "What would cause such disobedience?"

"I am my own person." Flashing him a smile, laughter bubbled in her throat while avoiding the question. "I came to lend myself to the people of Laketown, for they are in need of aid."

"A great lady that comes to the aid of the people, a rare elf we have here indeed." Bard said, returning her smile as he looked around, his smile fading in the wake of the destruction. "But tis true, we are reduced to living in a ruined place, and these people are scared."

"Do you lead them?" She asked, seeing Eroiwn approach from afar and feeling the weight of her duty before her.

"No, I am no one's master. I too, am my own person." Bard said, extending his hand, "It is a pleasure to meet you, I am called Bard."

Mourena took his hand and grasped it hard, shaking it. "I am Mourena, but call me by my birth name, to avoid detection. Imίdel, if you must refer to me within a group. Pray, do not speak to me, or of me, at all when King Thranduil is near. I do not intent to face his wrath if he learns of my presence."

"You may rely on me." Bard replied, kissing her hand, which surprised her, and brought a laugh to her lips as she replaced her helmet.

"Goodnight, Master Bard," She stepped away to rejoin her comrade to make for the tents. "We shall meet again, I think."

**Megaloceros is an extinct Irish deer that was used in the movies and I love it. I think it really embodied how much the woodland creatures are bound to him. **


	24. Of Dwarves and Men

**Here is the next chapter! Thank you all for your continued support! Please read, review and enjoy! J**

As they walked to the encampment, Mourena turned her head back, stopping in her tracks. The smell of a fire, the sounds of laughter and the small children trying to resist the tears revealing how tragic their condition was. As many as they were, this was what she had known; she was not better and did not deserve the luxury of the elven tents. She saw Bard watching her as she stalled in her retreat, and she bit her lip in caution. _What fatal error have I made? _Eroiwn turned round, the space between them noticeable and the elf watched her with concern.

"Imidel?" Eroiwn spoke softly, seeing the nature of her gaze, "We are needed below." Walking back to her, the elf touched her arm, pulling her softly below, and his eyes studied the sudden frigidity he felt from her, like a blow had struck her heart rendering her cold to the world. "My lady," He said softly, "Our absence will be noted." Turning back to him, she nodded and continued to the basin while her thoughts remained with the people of Laketown.

Upon entering the tent, Eroiwn took of his helmet, making the bed up for her. Mourena watched him and could not help but think of the children who had lost family in the wake of the destruction of their town, who would make their beds tonight? Who would dry their tears? She watched the elf and noticed his calm demeanor, it never faded; no outburst came from. Where was his heart? Mourena walked over and wrapped her arms around his torso as he shook out a blanket, the elf froze in surprise, and if she could have seen his face - it may have been seen. Releasing him, she smiled softly to herself, hugging had never been improper growing up, her father had shown them both love and affection. Eroiwn turned, watching her as she turned her head on its side watching his reaction and she finally smiled at him and shook her head. "I shall not sleep here tonight."

Eroiwn looked at her and he stepped toward her, his dark eyes like deep bottomless pits. "I say you shall." He said, giving her the blanket. "You cannot go chasing your emotions here, need I remind you what shall occur if you are caught?" Mourena gritted her teeth and then nodded, she did not want him to face the fury of Thranduil's wrath. "You agree to stay?" After she had verbally confirmed it, he relaxed and focused on the sounds of talking within his kin. He sat near the entrance of the tent, he seemed in peaceful meditation. Mourena lay on the ground, putting her helmet beside her, trying not the think of all the things swirling in her heart.

She did not know how long it had been, but she felt the pull of the King, his body yearning for her, and hers responding in kind. In her mind flashed images of the creature, kissing her neck and touching her body in such ways she could feel as if he was within the same space. Skin to skin, fire burning and mind racing with two bodies intertwined in such motion and shapes. His muscles under her fingers, and the escalating feeling – Mourena sat up, and shut her eyes and covered her mouth, feeling overwhelmed and locked within his mind. Clenching her teeth and grabbing her helmet, she stepped over the sleeping Eroiwn and looked around for signs of life, seeing and hearing none she ran as lightly as she could, her footsteps going towards the city of Dale.

Getting to a far wall she collapsed to the ground, her body shaking as she tried to shut him out. It took all of her strength to make her mind blank, ignore the rush of her heart to go to him and join him in such union once more. When she had finally succeeded, Mourena sat up, her back against the wall as she pulled her knees to her chest, the darkness her protector and confidant. Tears rose up but the energy to let them freefall lacked, and so they sat within. What was she giving up by loving him? Living apart from the world she had done, but never was she taught to ignore the ailments of others. To be serene at the cost of internalizing all other emotion, not being able to act rashly because it was a fault, it was too much like a lesser creature. _What does it mean to be an elf? Why is it so different than being human? What is the human? _Orange light seemed to rise from the one end of the earth, causing her to raise her head from its tucked position. She stood, placing her helmet on and brushing off the dirt as she walked back.

Eroiwn heard her footfalls and turned as she entered the tent, dirt on her garments. "We approach the mountain, arm yourself." He spoke, watching her reattach her sword without any life to her motions and he brushed the dirt off her shoulders as he passed. Lining up together, Thranduil appeared once more on his steed, Bard joining him on a horse and they seemed to be in conversation before Thranduil gave the command. Before Bard turned around, his eyes seemed to linger on her own, a fact that should have been impossible due to her well-conceived disguise. A faint smile rode on the man's lips as they headed for the mountain.

It seemed like an easy enough march, but Mourena found their conversation uninteresting. Her head buzzed with a very different problem, and the voice of other dwarves was what she heard, and her lips parted as she recalled the voices from the cells of Mirkwood. Her eyes scanned the fortress and she saw the hair above the battlements, briefly at times, and she felt a surge of protectful-ness. They had once been in the same place, however they seemed more than glad to incur the wrath of Thranduil and Bard. As they marched back, a restless sense of indignation within the elves resonated, and Mourena felt the light touch of snow falling. It was, after all, a November moon that was slowing forming in the night sky. And it was night time that she had to wait for, and manage to avoid Thranduil and Legolas all day.

Reaching the tent with much speed after dismissal, she turned her heels toward the ruins of Dale and reached the walls quickly. The haze in her head seemed to lift as she saw the people trying to mend their wounds and find methods of coping. "Master Bard," She spoke, approaching him and he turned to her as the girl met his dark eyes with her own gems. "Make use of me."

"I did not know King Thranduil gives us physical aid." He replied, looking her up and down with amusement.

"He does not. I offer you my help, if you accept. If you do not-" She said, raising her chin, her lips fighting a smile. "I shall do it anyway."

"How very human of you." The man replied and a coy look flashed across her face.

"More than you know." She said softly, turning her face but not removing the helmet as she waited no direction, grabbing stones that lay in a pile nearby. Bard explained that there was one building with minimal damage, a small hole in the wall, and if fixed may provide proper shelter from the oncoming cold. Mourena understood and quickly moved to complete the plan with the others. She soon learned that Bard's idea of a small hole was the size of a small troll, and she had to forcibly close her mouth when she saw it. Women were making a mixture to use as a binding agent for when the stones and bits of broken buildings would be placed on one another.

Coming back to the pile of rocks, she shot Bard a look and he smiled, "You disapprove?"

"Only of your gross exaggeration." She hissed as she picked up another chunk of broken stone.

"It is not." The man replied, "In relation to many of the buildings here, it _is_ small."

Mourena smiled, shaking her head as she headed back, the building itself was an old town hall or building of some stature, it had been well made. The stone used to make it had not crumbled under the weight of time, most of the buildings were still intact. The people of Laketown had been using buildings near the entrance of the city, old homes and counsel buildings that provided look outs. One popular building was an old stable, it had much room and lofts for the children. "It was the manor of the Lord of Dale." Bard said form behind her, for she had been staring at it for a good ten minutes.

"Lucky the craftsmanship was so fine." Mourena said, taking her helmet off and wiping her brow. A surge went through her body and she winced as his icy eyes flashed within her mind. Feeling a touch on her back, Mourena turned her head and chuckled, "You caught me reminiscing for the people who lived here. What shall you think of me?" She joked, replacing her helmet as she went back to work.

A young boy, in his late teens, came to her side with a canteen and offered it to her. Shaking her head, Mourena put up her hand. "I need it not."

"Is it true then?" The boy asked.

"Is what true?" Mourena asked, squatting down and resting for a moment.

"You're an elf?" The boy said, his dark eyes and dark hair brought a smile to her face as her eyes flickered to Bard, who was standing some feet away. Meeting the boy's eyes, she smirked at him while her eyes held inner joy.

"If it be so." She said calmly. "And what are you, some sort of-" She looked him up and down. "-large dwarf?" The boy smiled, a laugh coming to his lips as he sat beside her. "Are you not, you dress much like one." She said again and the boy blushed as she watched him.

"I found these clothes within the city." He replied, "Just because I am short, do not mock it. I shall grow tall."

"Until then I can not be certain you are not a dwarf." She replied, "And elves do not converse with dwarves, as you know."

"I am no dwarf." The boy said once more and she reached over and ruffed his hair, often like she had done with her brother.

"You are right, they have much facial hair." She said, a smile playing on her cheeks. "And you have none."

"I do!" The boy protested, "It is here." He pointed to his lip and the faint trace of black hair could be see with her half elvish eyes. "Legend says elf eyes see best in the world, can you deny you see it?"

"I see nothing but dirt." She countered, taking his chin in her fingers and inspecting it. "Alas," She said, moving her thumb across his upper lip and nodded. "Dirt it is. You can not fool these eyes." The boy huffed and she drew her thumb through the dirt. "Hold still." She drew a mark on his face and it faintly resembles a mustache. "There,_ now_ you might be slightly mistaken for a dwarf."

Bard turned his head and saw the elf, his son sat next to her, and he smiled at them. She seemed to have the innate ability to make people smile, and his son had not really done so since his mother had died, despite all his trying. He felt grateful, in a way, to the creature who sat there. She freely acted to help them, while the rest of her kin sat below, festering in their dislike for the dwarves. "Bain!" he called and the boy turned his head, standing to his feet and the elf followed suit. "You distract our guest." He said when the boy came closer, and he placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"It is not unpleasant." The woman spoke, and both jumped slightly upon her approach, they had not heard her. She saw their reactions and something fluttered across her face, but was quickly hidden with a smile. "I have been educated on what makes a dwarf from a young human lad."

"You tease us." Bard said, "I did not know elves that such sense of humour."

"They do not." A male voice said, and the men startled as they looked at Eroiwn, whose presence had gone unseen and unheard. The elf was not looking at them, and the green eyes beauty stared back at the elf, her eyes equally hard and unwavering. "We must descend."

"Why don't you join us for dinner?" Bard asked them both, "In the spirit of friendship. That message extends to King Thranduil. I should like to invite him myself."

"You shall get the chance," Eroiwn said, his eyes flickering to Bard's. "Aran Thranduil approaches."

Bard furrowed his brow and looked in the direction Eroiwn had come from, based on how the elf stood, but saw nothing. Turning back, he went to speak when he saw the glitter of silver hair over Eroiwn's shoulder and stopped. The she-self had gone, silently and unnoticed by Bard, before Thranduil came into vision. Bard bowed his head and his son turned around and did the same.

"Did I detect my name?" The elf king drawled, his eyes boring into Eroiwn's like something was amiss. Thranduil watched the elf carefully, this loyal elf had never disobeyed or done anything out of order, but the great elf sensed a wrong within Eroiwn's heart.

"I was extending the offer of dinner." Bard said, and the icy eyes became focused on a new subject. "it is not much to repay this debt, but you are most welcome at our fires."

Thranduil remained quiet, and Bard had the distinct feeling the elf knew his inner most desires and thoughts. Those eyes saw much, Bard knew, the tales of old about the King of the Greenwood had reached him. Trade with the Woodland realm had been much of Laketown, even though Bard himself was the Captain of the Archers he knew much of the dealings between the elves and the Master of Laketown. There must have been a sound unheard to Bard, for the elf's eyes moved quickly and his head turned to the side where his eyes narrowed to see what it was.

"My Lord?" Bard asked, "Is something amiss?" His son stood watching the elf in wonder, it was hard not to stare since the difference in the she-elf and this elf was so great. The rest of the people around them began to stare as well, the beauty of the elf King seemed to radiate in the ruined city.

"I thought I heard a curious bird." The King drawled, "One not native to this area." Eroiwn's face did not change as the sapphires swung his way once more. "I was mistaken." He said finally before turning back to Bard, aware of the many eyes upon them. "I accept your invitation, Bard son of Giriod, son of Girion, Lord of Dale."

* * *

Mourena dared not move from her perch within the old watch tower. Initially she had chosen the wood to hide, but the more she sat in the trees, the more she felt like they could hear her thoughts and in turn were speaking. She had heard the myths about the trees communicating with the elves, and she decided not to stay too long, lest she be given away. The stable had been a bit much to get to unseen, especially since both Thranduil and Legolas seemed on edge. Now that she saw in the tower, boredom quickly set in and she found it hard to sit still.

There was a small window that she could look out from, and it faced south away from the group as they ate and music played. Every once and a while she found herself looking out, her head resting on the stone, her helmet sitting beside her, as she looked at the sky, waiting for nightfall. By the time it did come, her body had cramped to the point of making walking painful, but she climbed down quietly. Skirting the elf campsite where most of the army sat eating and drinking while their King sat with the humans, she made her way near the mountain.

As she made her way closer to the mountain, an arrow whizzed and landed at her feet. She looked up, her eyes searching in the dark. "The next one will go between your eyes." A voice said in the dark.

"Kili?" She asked, her voice unsure, "Pray, is that Kili's voice?"

She heard something that sounded like a muffle of confusion, before the voice sounded again. "You have no business here elf." Mourena touched her helmet, she had forgotten to take it off and she hastily removed it.

"If you are not Kili, then what about Fili? Or Oin, Gloin? Do they dwell here?" She said, dropping the helmet as she stepped forward. She heard the pull of a drawstring and she froze, her eyes searching the darkness where once she would have relied on her other senses.

"By my beard." Dwalin huffed. "Ye can't be the girl from the dungeon."

"Dwalin!?" She asked, "You live!" She clapped her hands together as her brain searched. "How goes Bombur? Bifur? Ori and Nori? Dori? Balin? Are you all here?"

"Aye, we are." Balin said, his voice soothing. "How did you come to be here?"

"We thought you perished," Fili sounded, "By his hand."

"I was aided." She said carefully. "Pity was taken it seems."

"Then you are luckier than most." A deeper voice growled and Mourena narrowed her eyes.

"I do not know this voice." She said, "Pray, I am Mourena of Rohan, what name do you go by?"

"I am King under the Mountain." He growled, "Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror."

"I am glad to make your acquaintance." She replied, her tone still friendly.

"What business do you have here?" Thorin growled once more, and she almost see his hatred glow in the night sky.

"I wanted to speak to your kin," She said, assuming they were all related. "I have met them once before and it gladdened my heart so when I heard their voices."

"Just how did you escape that foul place?" Thorin asked, his done haughty and demanding.

"I did not escape. I was set free."

"Naye, lassie," Dwalin spoke, "No one is set free from elves."

Mourena swallowed and made a clicking sound with her tongue as she thought of the words. "I obtained my freedom, and I have come to give aid to the people, if they shall have me."

"So you come begging?" Thorin growled, his face flashed in her mind and her temper rose.

"You do not hear me. I offer them my help, I offer nothing to you nor ask from you. I came out of respect to the unknown voices I once heard in the dark, they offered proof that I was indeed alive within those cold walls, and I could not turn away from a chance to talk to them."

"Yet you come under cover of night?" Thorin said, his voice harsh and accusing. "You lie."

"I lack reason to do so," She countered, her voice rising. "I stand here alone. I am no threat to you, nor anyone. I lack agency, a fact you can plainly see."

"You lie about the elves, you could not have obtained your freedom from a creature such as he." Thorin spat.

"It is curious," Balin spoke, "Have you met him? The King?"

Mourena tried to quell her fire, her nostrils flaring. "I have."

"And he granted you release?" Kili asked in wonder.

"He granted me sanctuary." She replied. "My wounds were healed."

"What did you give him? Jewels?" Thorin spat.

"I gave him nothing." Mourena replied.

"Not even yourself." Thorin asked, his voice a lowly growl. Mourena felt her face flush and she fought the rising snarl.

"What did you say?" She asked.

"Did it pride you?" Thorin sneered, "To lay in his bed and offer yourself? Whore to the elves, is that your title be? Is that your reward? "

"Oh boy." Balin whispered as he turned to his brother and sharing a pained look before facing the battlements once more.

"You vile insolent fool." Mourena snarled, her green eyes looking up at the battlements. "Are you so blinded by gold that you would insult one who offers you but a word of kindness." She took a breath and cut him off before he could respond. "You hate the elf, I sense it, you loath him as you loath the evil who walks this earth. Yet you are not to different, dwarf, you and he are much alike. You are blind to your own pride and degeneration that you forget yourself. Do you not have a shred of kindness? Are your eyes so blind that you can not see past your nose?" She took a breath, her heart thumping rapidly. "Perhaps you have forgotten that not all that glitters is gold." She turned, walking back to her helmet and picking it up.

"That was a right awful thing to say." Dwalin muttered.

"I should have shot her where she stood." Thorin replied, "How dare she insult me and my kin?"

"I wassna talking about her." Dwalin stated.

"What?" Thorin asked, slightly taken aback at his kin's response.

"I was talkn bout you." Dwalin said, puffing up his chest. "Ya dunna speak that way to a lady."

"She is no lady." Thorin replied, touching his crown.

"She is, lad." Balin said carefully. "Ye canna see it, but she is."

The King under the Moutain snarled, lowering his hands. "Why are you still standing here? You should be searching for the stone! Go!"

* * *

As she marched back to the ruins of Dale, she huffed out her anger in mumbles and low snarls, her hands clenched around her helmet. As she approached the edge of the city, she saw a figure and ducked into the trees, placing her helmet on and touching the small dagger that was belted to her body. Her eyes watched the figure, it seemed to be gathering wood but she could not be sure. She did not possess the skill of sight that both Thranduil and Legolas had. The figure grunted as he picked something up, and he froze in a stream of moonlight clutching his left shoulder. She narrowed her eyes and froze. "Thein?" She whispered, moving slightly towards him. "Impossible."

"Damn." The man growled, is face tightened in pain, unaware of the approaching creature. He seemed to recover soon enough and he bent down to pick up the pile of wood he had dropped, loading it into his arms. As he stood, he looked outwards to the path and jumped as a figure stood before him, its approach unheard. "Who goes there?" The man growled, his free hand reaching for a sword on his hip. The figured stepped closer to the moonlight and green eyes glowed at him. The man froze, his eyes searching the eyes before hime. "Are you a ghost come to haunt me?"

"I am but flesh and blood." The figure replied, the sound of something being removed from its head, and a woman's face became clear as she stepped closer to the moonlight, a pale hand reaching to touch his face. "Ghostly apparition, how come you to meet me here?" She whispered, "For this is but impossible."

"Can it be," Thein said, dropping the wood at his feet, grasping her hand. "Ren? Rena?"

"Papa." She whispered. "But I thought you dead?"

"Almost- He whispered, pulling her into his chest and wrapping her in his arms. "Three arrows did piece my body, but my pony he kept on through the forest. Dark and horrid it was, but he carried through, as if a light guided him. I swear a ghost led him out, she wore robes of pure silver and adorned a head of golden hair. Such a dream led me out of the darkness." He said, and Mourena felt the tears drop on her head. "I thought you dead, sweet girl."

"I dared hope you were alive." She whispered, her arms around his torso, clinging to him. "I wadded through darkness for I know not how long. Mine eyes lost sight, and I was lost within the forest, I suffered wounds but I felt them not. How I worried for you, papa."

"I am well." He said softly, sniffling back his tears. "Does Tanin come with you?"

She whimpered, her thoughts had long been outside the fate of her family, and the memory pained her and she gripped him harder, her heart aching of what she had been confined not to express within the Palace walls. "He fell, papa. He fell as we rode for the forest, and I did not turn back for him. I failed him most miserably."

"You did not,-"

"I did not turn back! I left my brother there to die, running like a cur with my tail between my legs. I lay, waiting for death, and again and again it toyed with me. How I wished I had joined him!"

"Rena, no." He whispered, "Do not forsake your life because he has passed on." He stroked her head, "I thank whatever powers that be found you and kept you safe, allowing for your safe return to me." He pulled away, stepping into the darkness as he pulled her into the moonlight. "You look so well, my Ren. Quite of another world." He studied her and nodded. "You are clad in elven wear, dressed – " Thein studied her once more and his brow furrowed. "This is of the Woodland Realm. Rena, how came you by this?"

"I think you must know." She replied softly.

"You hold a debt to that King?" Thein asked, his voice worried, "Rena, a debt to him is a powerful thing."

"There is no debt papa." She whispered, but it came out like a whimper.

"How can this be?" Thein asked, touching her face. "How fragile you look, such worry in your eyes. You must tell me all that has transpired."

"I fear I can not papa. Even to you, it is nothing more than a dream-" She touched his hand as it lay on her cheek and she removed it. "-Or maybe a nightmare, which I am no longer sure."

"Has he harmed you?" Thein growled, stepping towards her.

"No!" She said quickly and he looked at her in surprise. "No. No harm. A world-wind. I can not express my feelings, papa. So much have I learned."

"Ah." He whispered. "I knew one day-" He sighed, "You always were a gentle heart, and Tannin thought the very notion would break it." He smiled softly and wrapped her in his arms. "Aye, child o' mine, I knew. You, whose fragile beauty and tender soul attract the best and worst of a man's soul. Your very being enchanted me, and then Tannin got you mad, and I soon realised what a viper lay within." She laughed, hugging him with all her might. "I swear, that poor shopkeeper, I thought he was going to faint."

"You talk as if you did not have a hand in it." She replied pulling away, her head telling her she had been away too long, she did not want Eroiwn to become anxious, if that was within the range of his emotions. "I must say farewell, for tonight at least." She kissed him on the cheek, her heart swelled. "Papa, I love you so, do not worry. Thranduil scares me not."

As barely heard her walk away, something she had always possessed, as did her brother. And her ears had always been more sensitive than others, every sound within a city she had heard and responded to like a child within a treasure room. "That is what worries me."


	25. Starlight Prince

**Awe! Thank you for the nice reviews guys. Makes my heart sing haha. Here is the next chapter, please read, review and enjoy!**

The King had chosen to eat with them the last four nights, bringing fresh game for the fires which was appreciated. Much of the people were very grateful, there was enough to make a good meal. His great eyes watched all and seemed to hear all. A small child had become fascinated with the elf King, and the orphaned child had touched his hair without reserve, causing Bard and the rest of his kin to hitch a breath. The small dark haired child smiled at feeling the softness of the long silver hair, his giant like size to the child seemed not to matter, and the child possessed light green eyes at looked unfearfully into the sapphires that watched her, studying her movements. "Prince." The girl said, and Eroiwn remained poised, but ready to remove the child on a moment's notice. Bard knew this child had become quiet taken with the she-elf, and many days the she-elf had returned to the town and helped once more, and had championed the child. "Starlight Prince."

The great creature lifted the child up, sitting her upon his knee. "Fear not, Bard son of Giroid." The elf drawled, tucked a hair behind the child's ear softly and Bard chuckled and drank his ale, another gift of the elves.

"I am not afraid." The little girl responded, and the King watched her intently, seeing a braid within the child's hair that was most complicated.

"You are not afraid of elves." Thranduil drawled, his lips almost curling in a smile at the little mortal soul.

"You are not an elf." The child declared, touching his hair. "You are the Starlight Prince." Eroiwn smirked as he looked outward into the dark, his eye briefly catching Bard's in a curious look.

"And what is a 'starlight prince'?" Thranduil asked the child, and she giggled, placing a small wildflower in his hair, and Bard almost choked as he drank. The sight of the creature so elegant and dressed in such garb, a purple tunic with a silver robe on his shoulders, with a tender yellow wildflower in his hair.

"Don't you know?" The girl asked, her big eyes with their light hue watching him. The elf nodded his head at her and she smiled, a faint one reflected on his own lips as she took a strand of hair in her hands to braid. "The Starlight Prince lives in the Great Wood, and he walks with moonlight, looking at the sky. He has a kind heart, but he is lonely." The child said, her small voice innocent. "The Great Wood is sad for him, for his Princess is trapped in far away, bathed in starlight."

"What, pray, did he do?" Thranduil drawled, keeping a hand on the girl so she did not lose her balance like most human children did when preoccupied. The girl giggled happily, as if the question was the most absurd thing ever have been said. Bard watched the two curiously, he had not seen a display of kindness from the elf in such a way. Everything the elven King did was inadvertent, never outright, yet he allowed this child a closeness which no other seemed to enjoy.

"Of course he rescued her." The girl said, finished her braid and starting another one. "But not for a long time, because she was lost."

"Then how did he find her?" The King asked, his voice soft as she leaned in to fix a mistake in his hair. The little girl paused, biting her lip.

"I don't know." She said finally and with a sniff of indignation.

"Where did you hear that story?" Thranduil asked, touching her head softly as the child finished. "You mother?" The little girl's eyes dropped and she shook her head, tears welling there. "Ah. Do not cry, little one." He whispered, a sound so low and lovely only she could hear it. "You are not alone."

"A wren told me." She whispered.

"A little bird?" The King responded, a smile now curling visibly on his lips, his eyes looking at Bard with a knowing glare within his eyes. "What a treasured tale indeed."

"You do not know the best part." The girl said knowingly, leaning in to tuck the elf's hair behind his ears. The roaring fire in front of them made his pale skin seem wholly unnatural, his eyes even bluer within the light. She leaned in and put her lips close to his ear, as if telling him a great secret. "They live happily ever after." She sat back with a triumphant smile and the elf King gazed at her.

"All right now Suzy," Bard said to the child. "You must thank King Thranduil, and get you to bed." The little girl looked at the elf and seemed sad, her eyes pleading.

"Can't I stay?" She asked softly.

"She does no harm, Bowman." Eroiwn said, his back to him.

"She is a child." Bard replied, watching the elf before looking back to the elven King. "She needs rest."

"A ren doesn't sleep." The child protested. "She is there-" The child pointed to the old watch tower, "She stays there." The elf King eyed Bard, the man sighed and bowed his head.

"Alright Suzy." Bard replied, sitting down, "As long as King Thranduil says it is fine, you may stay."

"Oh-" The girl gasped looking at the elf with hands now clasped in hope. "Please may I stay Prince? Please? I have not had the song promised, and I promise to be ever so good." The elf tucked his chin, tilting his head to look at her steadily, his eyes soft and almost welcoming, tucking a strand of her hair on the other side of her face, nodding slightly and the girl squealed, throwing her arms around his neck, catching him off guard, but he chuckled deep within his throat. Bard watched the elf gently put his hands on her back, a gentle touch from such a creature. "Thank you!" The girl said, repeating it several times. "Now a ren may sing to me."

"May I offer a song?" The elf King asked the girl, and she nodded. Bard smiled, the little girl hopping down from his knee, running to get something which turned out to be a small wooden flute. She held it with a smile, putting it to her lips and waiting for the elf King to start.

"I shall play for you," An old man across the fire said, "Why don't you show the King what lovely dancing ya've got, Suzy?" The little girl agreed, passing the instrument and then coming to stand by Thranduil once more, ready to dance for him while he sang.

_Sing now ye joyful, now sing all together_

_The wind's in the tree-top, the winds in the heather;_

_The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,_

_And bright are the windows of Night in her tower._

_Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!_

_Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!_

_The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;_

_Merry is May-time, and meery our meeting._

_Sing now we softly, and dreams let us weave!_

_Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him!_

_The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!_

_Lullabye! Lullyabe! Alder and Willlow._

_Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the north._

_Fall Moon! Dark be the land!_

_Hush! Hush! Qak, Ash and Thorn!_

_Hushed be all the water, till dawn is at hand._

The elf's voice was deep and clear, it seemed to echo with the wind rising to meet him, quelling at his say. The woods of the trees seemed to murmur their approval as his voice rang clear, the soft sound of a flute playing with him. A she-elf in a watch tower poked her head over the stone battlement, her arms providing a pillow as she listened with content. Bard was too very pleased with the music, the elf possessed a voice easy to hear. Suzy danced, a smile on her face, and when the song ended, she took a bow, the men and women of Laketown clapped for her, and the elven King also clapped for the child. The child giggled, rushing into the King's arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek, bringing an unexpected flush to the King's face that Bard did not expect. "Thank you!" The child said, stepping back, tiredness in her eyes but a sparkle lay there none the less.

"Alright, to bed with you now." Bard said, standing. Suzy looked at him and then back at the elf and smiled to hide a yawn.

"Goodnight Prince." She said, turning to walk to Bard.

"If I may." The elf drawled, standing he exchanged a look with Bard and Bard smiled and lowered his head. Bending, he picked up the child in his arms, and she wrapped her small arms around his neck once more as he held her. "You must tell me where I am to go." The elf spoke softly, the little girl was almost asleep in his arms.

"The old stable, but it is crowded my Lord." Bard replied, his mind wondering if the elf had always been this kind within his icy exterior and cold expressions. His son Legolas seemed to reflect the elf's talent as a father, again reflected by his treatment of this child. The elf's eyes looked in the direction of the watchtower, and then the stable and his moved his head slightly to acknowledge his route. Bard watched him go, his steps unheard and the child but a mere parcel in his arms. "Does he normally do this?"

"Aran Thranduil has always cared much for children." The elf responded, turning and watching the silver hair fade into the moonlight. "But not for hίn edain (human children)."

"Why does he do so now?" Bard responded in thought, unaware he had said it aloud.

"Aran Thranduil is not unaware of _her _presence," The elf said softly. "He feels her here like trees their roots. But that she has marched with us, I pray he does not know."

"Is it so bad-" Bard asked as the elf stepped closer, "-that the women come? She has aided us a great deal."

"Do no forget your heart Bowman." Eroiwn whispered. "He will not be so kind."

"What does she mean to him?" Bard asked, his gaze steady aware of the approach of a man behind him and he turned his eye, Eroiwn's eyes flickering to a man he had seen briefly but did not know. "You need not look like that Master Eroiwn, this is Thein, he came to us gravely injured and saved many when the dragon attacked. He is a good archer."

"An old ranger, I think." Eroiwn said, the name ringing familiar in his head. Thein bowed his head, the man was not so old, his hair started to grey and a he wore a beard of discoloured black and silver. Eroiwn did not like this, there was no such thing as coincidence within the world, and this felt wrong, as if a shadow lay over the man. "How come you to be here?"

"You have been told." Thein responded coldly. "You have not answered the Master's question, and I too would like the answer."

"I am no master," Bard replied softly. "I only do what I can."

"The men look to you." The elf said, his gaze upon Thein, his voice to Bard. "You have the respect of Aran Thranduil."

"He is to be respected, he is a great King." Bard said, watching the calm on the elf's face, no knowing what lay beneath. Thein seemed to bristle as he folded his arms.

"Take heed in my warning Bowman, do not look upon emeralds with notions of grandeur." The elf turned, disappearing much from sight without sound and Bard sighed.

* * *

The child had been laid down, being far away from him within the context of reality. He thought back to when Legolas had been so small, his baby son with a face mirroring his own. What loveliness in his heart had there been then, so much joy. Legolas had grown quickly, he had blinked and the child was gone, replaced with a Prince. Thranduil chuckled as he walked from the stable, thinking of the child's term, what was such a Starlight Prince to do? He became aware of Eroiwn's presence and paused, "Speak enwina mellon, lest your torment blind you." Thranduil drawled.

"You have long been aware, Arannîn." Eroiwn said calmly.

"It was an ill attempt to try and fool me." Thranduil replied, walking with the elf side by side. This elf had been with him through many things, like the passing of his wife. Both of the maidens had been slayed by orcs in a viscous attack, and Eroiwn had fought bravely to save baby Legolas from harm, losing both his own love and the Queen. The pain within the elf had been stifled, as was the pain that had grown with Thranduil's own heart.

"Yet you say nothing." Eroiwn said, his ears watching as they approached the tower, and Eroiwn felt a soft smile on his face.

"Would it do good?" The King asked softly, "It seems that I am to be disobeyed regardless."

"No harm was meant." Eroiwn returned, his voice equally as quiet. "Her desire to protect her kin is as strong as yours Arannîn."

"As was her desire to shut me out." Thranduil drawled, "I not fully know how near she was until two moons past our arrival."

Eroiwn blinked, "Arannîn." Did he not know she had marched with them? Or had he thought she had followed on her own accord?

"Fear not Eroiwn," Thranduil drawled, "I am patient, and she is young. I shall wait for her to come to me."

"I distrust the one called Thein." Eroiwn said after a time of reflection. "He carries a shadow, his presence here unnatural."

"What makes it so?" He growled softly.

"He cared for her in Rohan." Eroiwn said, his voice dark. "Her brother slain, yet a mortal lives, with little to no evidence of wounds based on mortal healings. It does not fit, and I fear something sinister lies within the tale."

"Have you told her of this?" Thranduil said, his voice calm but concern flashed within his eyes, and Eroiwn shook his head in the dark.

"No Arannîn It has been brewing on my mind this past hour since I saw him in the darkness. He lingered too long there, watching you with a hatred severe. It did not truly alarm until I heard his name." His companion replied. "I fear he may be rash."

"Then I shall stake my claim openly." Thranduil said, his voice growling in the night. "I will not see her come to harm, Eroiwn."

"Nor I, Arannin." Eroiwn replied. "Long has been the years I have seen your soul so clear. The stars shine in your favor."

Thranduil snorted, a smile on his lips. "You listen too long to children's tales, mellonnîn."

* * *

The figure in the watch tower poked her head over the battlement, the two figured still underneath it, but the sound of the snort was too much to peak her curiosity. As she watched them, she found their voices too low for her to hear, and she suspected it was deliberate. His presence had grown more and more in her mind, which caused her anguish to the point of tears, the physical yearning for him made her burn within. She doubted much that her presence went unknown, now at least.

She started her descent when the figures had moved on, and she walked to the tents in the basin. She longer for him as much as he did for her. Distance of any kind seemed painful. As she entered the tent, Eroiwn looked up, and she smiled at him. "Mellonnin." She said softly. "How be you tonight?"

"I am well hinya." Eroiwn replied as she sat, and she furrowed her brow at the unnatural word. "It mean's my child."

"Have I been demoted?" She asked softly, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I was at least mellon this morning." Eroiwn chuckled softly, placing his head on top of hers gently.

"You are a child." Eroiwn said smoothly. "I protect you like my own."

"True words." She said, "We shall be finished the wall tomorrow. I am glad of it, the stable it not nearly whole enough to keep them safe from the snow."

"You have fulfilled your quest, hinya." Eroiwn nodded. "Do not keep Arannin waiting much longer."

"You do not think I will face his wrath?" She asked softly, looking up at him.

"I fear his wrath will worsen if he sees how the men of Laketown look at you." Eroiwn spoke flatly. "The Bowman is taken with you, as I fear are most of them."

"They are grateful." She countered and the elf grunted, and she grinned. "You do not believe me."

"I believe in what I see, hinya." Eroiwn growled faintly, "You are too blind to the follies of men, they do not see how they watch you. Arannin is patient, but his temper is hotter than yours, or do you forget?"

"I have not forgotten." She replied, closing her eyes. "I simply do not want to lose my humanity, Eroiwn. It feels like an age has gone by since I have heard talk that does not elevate me beyond a simple person. I am one of them once more, I have worked to be their equals."

"Hinya, you are rînnin now. You are the equal of Arannin." He whispered. "Elves are not equal, hinya, we are different. We share much with others, but we are different. Truly, you share more human qualities than I, but you are in many ways more elvish. You are quiet and stealthy, you possess speed of foot, your beauty is that of an oak, strong and tall, protecting everything under its canopy while dazzled by sun and starlight."

"Are you giving me a compliment, Eroiwn?" She asked, a smile on her lips.

"I merely state the facts." He replied with a huff and she laughed softly into her hand.

"I believe you have been found out , mellonnin." She grinned, closing her eyes and drifting into a fitful sleep.


	26. What the Trees See

**Yay! Thanks for the reviews! I hope you all like this chapter! Please read, review and enjoy!**

Mourena could not rest as easily as her friend, as long as they had camped here, her thoughts and dreams were ruled by his intense desire. She rose, touching her tunic lightly as her bindings hurt her, she had been fearful to change them with so many around. Even if Thranduil knew of her existence here, she doubted the others did so; the rest of his kin did not interact much with the people of Laketown. Slipping out of the tent, she walked toward the mountain; away from Dale and away from the basin, but not toward the dwarves. She desired the comforts of the wood along the mountain side, the moonlight drawing her closer. As she made her way, she passed his tent, and saw Bard and a small creature within. They were talking, so she dared slip passed, the movement in the distance catching the eye of one inside.

"You are the one who stole the keys to the dungeon under the nose of my guards, are you not." He drawled, his icy eyes flickering in the dim light within the tent as a figure moved past. He raised his head slightly, his chin rose and the two within the tent seemed to shrink.

"I am." The hobbit answered. "My name is Bilbo. I come to offer you something."

"What can you offer us?" Thranduil drawled, "A sickness lies over the Mountain, words are not enough."

"It is a good effort," Bard nodded, "I agree with King Thranduil, there is no information you can offer us."

Thranduil listened to the pause in the tent, the hobbit was thinking deeply, something bothering him yet pushing him on. As he watched the short creature, he felt a stirring behind his head, and he raised a hand to his heart, touching it lightly as it seemed to skip a beat. He sat, elegantly and with no difference in emotion on his face while his mind could see her face, turned to the moon.

"I offer no words, I fear-" The hobbit nodded, "-words are not enough. I come to offer you this." Bilbo pulled a stone as white as starlight out of his pocket, it glistened and glimmered. Bard stood straight, no longer leaning on a table within the tent, and Thranduil eyed it carefully. There was no other, the arkenstone shone, yet he saw reflected in the stone a red, mixed with pale, a face looking at him over a shoulder in the darkness, a small smile on her face as she removed her tunic to reveal binding underneath.

"Can it be?" Bard questioned, watching Bilbo curiously. "How come to be by this?"

"It is curious." Thranduil drawled, his eyes watching the woman within the reflection turn her head away, her hands gently touching her exposed shoulders and neck as she looked up to the moon, eyes closed.

"That does not matter." Bilbo said softly. "It is most desired, yet causes such heartache. I came to give this to you, to end this. Thorin is not himself."

The tent went silent, the elven King's chest rose and lowered in such a way that forced calmness within. He could feel where her mind lay, within the bath of his chamber, his touch on her skin, their union and the movements within it. "I leave this with you Bard." He drawled, "You have more need of this than I."

"What use have I with it?" Bard looked at the King, whose thoughts seemed to have trouble focusing.

"You tell me Bowman." Thranduil drawled. "Such a tool for bartering I never have seen."

Bilbo passed the stone to the man, offering a stiff bow. "I should return. I wish you luck." He said softly, turning and passing unheard into the darkness. Bard looked at the gem in wonder, before tucking it into his pocket.

"I do not know what we may accomplish with this." Bard spoke, the elf was staring at him before he removed the stone from sight. "But this may provide the leverage we need."

"Underestimate the dwarves not, Bowman." Thranduil drawled standing. "Their pride rises above their need for gold. Do not be surprised if it changes nothing."

"We take that risk." Bard said softly. "I feel like others will come soon for the mountain."

"True, the knowledge of the dragon will bring many to Erebor." The King drawled, looking out into the darkness. "I tire of this conversation. Go, we shall meet again tomorrow."

"Aye, the hour grows late." Bard replied, giving him a curt nod. "I shall meet you at dawn, King Thranduil."

The king nodded his head in return, waiting until no steps could be heard and he blew out the light, wading into the darkness towards the feeling emanating within. He wandered, his eyes scanning the darkness with intent, a deep longing in his stomach. Coming into a small clearing within the trees, the leaves seemed to whisper to press on. A thicket, they said, ahead. Following the advice he moved on, seeing moonlight light his way until the beams illuminated skin.

She was standing in the same position, swaying softly to a song she hummed as the moon warmed her. He approached silently, his eyes looking at her form as she stood semi-naked. The pain she had taken to hid her figure from the others made him smirk, but her physical pain ailed him. Coming to stand behind her, so close yet she did not move in surprise. Reaching out he touched her jaw, running a finger along it and down her neck, a low growl in his throat. "You distract me." Allowing the rest of the fingers to touch her shoulder and collarbone, stroking the skin softly, and she placed a soft hand on his own. "Tease me."

"Such have you done to me." She replied softly. "You tormented me, _my Lord_." She turned her head softly, eyes closed as she felt his nearness. Removing his hand, he undid the braids that held her hair in place so well, allowing her locks freedom and running his hand through the softness, and she leaned back in quiet pleasure.

"You enjoy this, aiwë?" He whispered, bringing her head to rest on his chest, his arms going around her; his hands clasping her own.

"I missed you." She whispered. "So little distance and I longed for you."

"But-" He drawled, his fingers moving to the bandages and feeling her flinch, growling within as he started undoing them. "Why did you not tell me?"

"You would not have allowed it." She opened her eyes, looking up at the calm face and blue eyes with quiet stillness in her voice.

"You are afraid." He whispered, backing up as to remove the wraps softly and swiftly from her skin. "Is that why resisted my call?" She nodded, shivered in pain as her bruised skin became exposed. "He tied these too tightly." He whispered to himself, and she turned her head to look at him.

"I told him to." She replied, covering her chest. He discarded the wraps, removing his cloak and wrapping it around her, pulling her into him.

"Do not fear, aiwë " He whispered, putting his forehead to hers. "I understand." Her eyes met his, and her fingers moved themselves to his chest, undoing the fastenings. He removed his head and raised a brow, dropping the cloak as his garment was removed and she stepped into his chest, wrapping her arms around him.

"I am not afraid of you," She spoke softly. "I am afraid of losing myself within you, for I feel-"

"You do not have to explain, aiwa." He whispered, entangling his hands in her hair. "It overwhelms and consumes us." She smiled and moved her hands to his neck, pulling his lips to hers as she embraced his, standing on the tips of her toes to embrace the fire that churned within them, the passion rising and grip on her body became stronger as they let the fire roll. Breaking apart, she panted softly as he did the same, reaching to his leggings and undoing them, her hands shaking with need. "Here?" He questioned, a smirk on his face and an eyebrow raised.

"It is the forest, my love." She said softly, watching as his garments fell to the ground. "I do not think the trees will betray us." He chuckled, removing her own leggings with steady hands. He spread the cloak out as she folded the clothes, putting them aside and turning to watch him. His skin gleamed in the moonlight, his hair glowed silver and his muscles moved with fluidity of a river. She watched each muscle move as he crouched then stood, his thighs showing the definition she had felt the first time they had joined.

"You stare." He drawled, his back to her as he stood, finally turning his head towards her. He was tall, stretching toward the sky like a tree, while his powerful presence made him seem as treacherous as the see.

"Lie down." She spoke, stepping toward him, the moonlight glowing on her own pale skin, making her hair glow and her eyes sparkle. He gave her a look and she smiled, "Will you obey my command, _my Lord._" He rolled his eyes, kissing her deeply before sitting down; laying on his back as he watched her step beside him. Her hair fell over her shoulders and tumbled to his own skin as she knelt, placing a hand on the far side of his head and kissing his neck. His right hand touched her body, moving slowly over her skin as she made him groan, a growl caught in his throat as she found a spot under his elf ears. He felt her shift over him, moving a leg to his left side as she sat up, watching him. Sitting up, he felt the pressure of her hand on his chest, pushing him back down with a small coy smile. "Be still." She commanded softly.

Running her fingers over his chest, she touched the muscles, feeling their path downward, kissing him when he showed signs of heightened pleasure where her fingers ran. He watched her, touching her chest with his hands, careful of the bruises that lay on her torso, yet eliciting a soft moan from her as he touched her. It continued for some time, the building of emotions, kissing broken by massaging, all consuming passion tensed between them and the lady felt her lord grow impatient. Sitting up, removing her fingers from his body, she moved back touching his manhood softly as she lowered herself, and he growled, his lips parting as he sat up, and she outstretched her hand.

"You torture me." He growled, laying his head back down, as she took his hands and entwined their fingers, moving very slowly on him. She smiled softly, ignoring the rippling sensations through her as she shifted her hips, watching him suffer with pleasure while not being allowed to return it with his body. His fingers gripped her own tightly when she clenched her muscled around him, moving her hips in a circle as she did so and he closed his eyes, sucking in a breath softly and she watched from half closed eye lids. "Let me up" He growled hoarsely.

She said nothing as she moved, the elongation of the time and her movements making him restless with the prolonged pleasure, opening his eyes to reveal the need for her grow greater. He did not like being out of control, but as she made a sharp movement she saw his eyelids flutter, closing his lips as a moan he attempted to supress. She fought down the feeling within her and moved faster slowly, building it while keeping her eyes on him. He watched her, his eyelids fluttered frequently, his lips opening and closing as she moved faster. The rhythm increased, a steady pound of her heartbeat with his as she heard herself whimper as she gripped his hands as much as he gripped hers.

He tried to sit up, the moonlight shining on his face as he arched his own back against the feeling and his own trapped body as she moved faster, the end nearing. She felt her own feet and legs shaking violently, and she clenched her teeth to keep her concentration as she moved faster. Lowing himself back down by force, he gripped her hands hard as she brought him to the end, growling as he shut his eyes, clenching his teeth as a powerful force flooded him. He heard her own small cry through tight lips, and the sensation within her body screamed in pleasure as she relied on his arms to stay strong, her own trembling at such a force.

He opened his eyes slowly, aware of the rise in his chest and his own panting, the world coming clear once more as the fog within his sight cleared. He was away of her trembling as he removed his fingers from her own, and he sat up quickly, catching her so she did not fall. He lay back down, his hands on her back, crushing her to him as she shook, and he was aware of his own shakiness. Her face on his chest, ear to his ribcage as she closed her eyes, her fingers moving to his face when she found the strength. Lifting her face she moved forward, his arms releasing their grip as she kissed him softly, their bodies no longer joined. Rolling over, he placed her gently on the cloak, returning the kiss softly as he once again clutched her to his chest. They lay in the silence, sharing soft sweet kissed that seemed to reverberate through them. Tender thoughts and touch accompanied them, and the lovers calmed eventually.

"My absence will be noticed." He whispered, touching her hair to move it from her face. She nodded, her hands not moving from his body, a content sigh escaping from her lips. He moved quickly, startling her as he scooped her up in the cloak, putting her over his shoulder as he retrieved the clothes. He smiled to himself as he walked quickly and silently back to the tent, it would be dawn in a few hours.

"Do you not care if we are seen?" She hissed, squirming.

"You doubt my ability?" He snarled softly, moving inside his tent easily, holding a flap open with his hand as he entered it, not a soul knew he had been gone, nor that he had returned with a bundle. He placed her on the ground, depositing the clothes on the table. She smiled and shook her head, moving into his body and kissed his lips.

"No." She replied before he kissed her again, his arms around her, "Just your sanity,- " She stated softly with a giggle rising in her throat. "-_my Lord._" He smirked at her, kissing her forehead and retrieving clothes to wear from a small chest. He pulled out a dark silver tunic with dark purple leggings, and he wore them well. She watched him from her place inside the cloak, and she smiled as she watched him transform into the cold exterior all knew him by. He retrieved something else and he glanced at her, placing a dress out on the table and gestured her over. She saw it was a dress in matching colours, the ends bore a deep orange and she blushed, touching it.

He said nothing as he removed the cloak around her, helping her into the underdress, careful of her skin which was already healing. Tying the underdress, he did not tie on the corset tightly, and the dress slipped over her body, clinging to her human curves and accentuating her elven beauty. He smiled at her, the dip of the dress made her bosom look full and lovely, and her shoulders broad and ready for a royal jewel. "I do not think I like this dress." He drawled as he watched her, she looked far too enticing and he felt the inner rage of jealousy. He turned and she giggled, making him pause and turn his face slowly back to her over his shoulder.

"You have things in your hair." She said, touching his head, removing items. He moved aside, and she watched him retrieve a brush, handing it to her. She brushed his hair softly, removing the unwanted grass and small specs of dirt, stopping only when it shone like the moon of the night. "There, you shall dazzle all things."

"I always dazzle," He said, and she snorted as he turned, moving her so her hair was to him. "I shall never want more than to be the brightest star in your eyes." He brushed her hair, it was silky and smelled of the Greenwood. As he brushed it, she uttered a soft groan, smiling softly when he finished as he grasped her hair firmly and braided it firmly into a lovely mixture of braids. "Or am I not the_ Starlight Prince_?"

She turned, taking his hand and smiling, a blush on her cheeks. "A friend told it to me, the last time that I can remember her."

He did not respond as his ears heard hooves, the sun softly shining outside the tent. "My Lord Thranduil," Bard said, his horse making noise. "Are you ready?" The King felt a twitch on his lips and Mourena shook her head in amusement, feeling his grasp on her hand as he led them out of the tent, his hand pushing back the fold. The sun hit the elf's hair, causing the men to cover his eyes, waiting until the elf moved more outside the tent.

"Indeed." The elf king drawled, moving his hand as one of his kin ran to get the beast. Bard blinked as his eyes rested on the maiden next to him. It took him a moment to see that is was Mourena, the she-elf who he had been warned against. As the deer approached, the elves seemed to appear, looking momentarily surprised but only for a second in the depths of their eyes. "You ride with me."

She looked at him sharply, making a face. "Surely not." He eyed her coolly, a steeliness that told her not to argue but she stared back equally. Thranduil smirked, nodding in retreat and she sighed, chuckling as she touched the deer's nose softly. The creature eyed her carefully at first, then seemed to resonate with the woman the elven King presented. Thranduil mounted the creature easily, and Bard moved his horse next to the creature.

"Good Morning, my friend." Bard said, and the she-elf looked at him and smiled, her eyes shining. "I did not expect to see you-" Her eyes understood, yet the calm look from Thranduil made him pause. "-here."

"You are not alone." She replied, looking down at her cloths. "I do hope you shall permit me to visit later, I would not want to make a soul uncomfortable." Thranduil snorted softly behind her, so soft only she could hear. She smiled, coming round the side of the beast and touching the elven King's leg softly and without notice from the man. The mountain loomed in the background, and she looked at Bard cheerfully. "I shall see you both when you return." The man nodded at her with a smile, and Thranduil said nothing as he moved the beast onward, and she watched them go.

"How lovely you look." Eroiwn said from behind, and she turned, a blush on her cheeks. A laugh leaked out of her lips and she touched her friend's arm and shook her head.

"I did only as you asked." She replied, "I did not keep him waiting." The elf grunted and she saw the looks from the other elves around them and shifted uncomfortably. "I must look a fright."

"You wear royal dress." The elf said softly. "It seems Arannîn wished to make a point." Mourena sniffed, and sighed, watching her friend. "He senses the Bowman's attachment to you."

"What nonsense!" She cried, causing the other elves to turn sharply to look at her. "How horribly untrue. Master Bard appreciates the help, and his kin the same. You forget they are my kin also."

"You have no connection to them." Eroiwn said flately. "You are unaware of men and the ilk of their kind."

"We are all connected Eroiwn, it is the nature of the world." She replied as coldly. "I am as unaware as you are unfeeling toward them. They have lost their families, they are afraid, yet you say and do nothing to aid them."

"It is not my place."

"Then make it so." She hissed to him, moving around him and walking toward Dale. Her friend followed behind, matching her pace as she came to the town; finding many eyes upon her. She slowed, and felt their gaze; it was a mixture of desire and obscurity, she was held with awe and fear. She stopped, no one moved around her, and she was aware that the dress was too grand compared to them, and it saddened her that she had not changed.

"So you are an elf." Bain said, stepping forward and smiling. "I see it plainly now."

"Ah, my young dwarf." She smiled, taking the boy's arm. "I do believe that you have had a growth spurt."

"I have." The boy said proudly. "You must not fear, it is just that they have never seen something so beautiful."

"It is a lovely dress, to be sure." She replied as they walked.

"I do not mean the dress, elf." Bain replied, "My father wondered what you looked like when you weren't rolling in the dirt." The boy's eyes twinkled and she smirked at him, slapping his shoulder.

"You lie, you cheek." She replied, "Your father said no such thing."

"Ah alright-" Bain groaned, rubbing his shoulder with his far hand. "It was my thought, I concede. I concede!" He barked as her fingers grasped his ear and twisted. "It is such a crime, to wonder what a lady looks like outside dirty breeches and a helmet?"

"No." Eroiwn said from behind him, making the boy jump. "As long as it is within certain bounds."

"I meant nothing by it." Bain said, "But I don't regret saying it, you are the prettiest thing I have ever seen." The elf behind him cleared his throat and the boy blushed. "I tell no lies, I swear."

"You have not seen much of the world," She said softly, "There are many ladies prettier than I. Wait and see, I think you will be surprised with what the future holds."

"I should not care, but if you would wait for me." Bain replied, his gaze honest and Mourena stopped, turning him to face him.

"I am sorry, my friend." Mourena said softly, she touched his cheek. "I fear you are too late, I am attached and bound to another."

"By the time I am grown, you may not feel the same."

"My dear, you and I shall always be friends." Mourena smiled and ruffled his hair, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. "If you would call me but sister, I would be satisfied."

"Is this how you spend your time," A voice drawled, silent footsteps behind them. "Tell me, have you kissed all the men from Laketown?"

A look flashed within her eyes and Bain saw the deep emotion there, and she wanted him to understand. She turned her head to the side, Thranduil stood tall and proud, Bard coming up behind him. "No, not all." She replied, stepping back from Bain and towards her lover, her husband. He watched her, a slight movement of his hand indicated where he thought her hand would go. Instead, she bypassed him, a sharp flicker in her eye as she kissed the Bowman, her lips touching the edge of the man's own. She looked back over her shoulder at Thranduil her red hair shining, a hand on Bard's chest with seductive glare in her emeralds. "Not yet."


	27. Of Tender Hearts

**Please read, review and enjoy!**

The look on the King's face made Bard's blood ran cold, and he chuckled in response as the she-elf smiled wide as the King grasped her wrist and pulled her away. The King seemed to swell twice his size as the she-elf let out a laugh. "That is what you get for asking such a silly thing." She said, touching the King's arm and giving it a squeeze, the look of annoyance in his eyes combined with a warmth Bard did not expect. He recognized such a look, he had once given the same look to his own wife. However, it was not the matter at hand.

"What do you propose we do?" Bard asked, "Thorin won't change his mind I'm afraid."

"There is little left to do." Thein said as he walked up behind Bard, giving the King a look as he saw the elf holding Mourena's wrist. "You'll have to take the mountain."

"I have no intention of wasting my time on such rabble." The King drawled as he tucked his lovers arm under his own, her fingers curling around his forearm. "Thirteen dwarves should be an easy conquest for the people here."

"I do not want to fight." Bard said reluctantly. "But we need what is owed to us if we are to rebuild."

"Face it lad." Thein said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "The dwarf has fallen into the clutches to the sickness of his kind. Gold is a powerful thing, and only death can remove it."

"These men are tired." Legolas said, the men jumped at not hearing his arrival. "I fear they could not do battle so easily." His eyes rested on Mourena and he saw her calm face darkened with stormy eyes, and he wondered just what she saw.

"Lord Legolas speaks true." Bard said, sighing as he looked at the elven King. "I require your aid, my Lord Thranduil."

The elven King seemed to search Bard's very soul, his eyes cool and knowledgeable. He wished for the emeralds that had long been lost to him, but he did not want to sacrifice his kin to such a simple battle. However, this man seemed to share in his sentiments and the elven King felt the weight of the hand on his arm and he looked at her, her eyes were dark like the depths of Mirkwood. She knew what he was thinking, Bard realized sadly, she alone knew how to read the stormy creature with accuracy. "We shall aid you." Thranduil drawled, turning his head back to the Bowman. "I require no thanks Bowman, I ask that you only spare the men who can not fight by leaving them in Dale."

"I will thank you, my Lord." Bard said, extending his hand to the elf. "I hope in this alliance friendship can be forged."

The elven King returned the handshake and a small smile tugged at his lips at the man's words. "I think that may be possible." The words came out in a thick husk, and the man opposite smiled as the handshake ended. The group seemed more amiable, removing themselves to speak of a plan.

Mourena watched them go, feeling his warmth leave her as he walked with Bard and Thein. Legolas stood by her, saying nothing as his eyes watched her intently. "You have much on your mind." She offered him a small smile, clasping her hands in front of her as she stood idle. "You were wise when you suggested us bring armour."

"You both knew there was a chance of fighting." She replied flatly. "Place credit only where due."

"My father has great need of you." Legolas said softly, "He is much changed, more himself than I have seen him since the Wood has sickened." She looked at him with no expression on her face, her eyes did not have any change to them. "Long has it been where he played with children, or let a smile grace his features."

"He has done much for me as well." She replied, watching as the men talked from a safe distance. "I fear of losing myself within him, for I do not know grandeur, no do I expect it, but near him I am at ease, no fear exists. Never did I know what is was to be whole."

Legolas watched she spoke and a small smile crept onto his face. "I wondered what a force would drive him to make so quick a decision, the act-

"It was not planned." She said flatly. "Aware of the results, I was not. I cannot, and never be, a mother to you. I have no wisdom of life that you do not know. I must only hope you allow me opportunity to rely upon you."

"You possess more than you realise." He said, "I am not opposed to calling you my Queen, nor mother, if that is his wish."

"Do nothing of the kind, you age me as you speak of it." She said softly. "I am still human, my Lord, I possess many faults, one is that I have a temper not worth lighting."

"Have you met my father?" He said, a small joke in his statement, "Never has a storm been so quietened. Stop protesting and hear my words. They hide no insult." She met his eyes and turned her head on its side, a smile on her lips that came naturally.

"I thank you then." She pondered for a moment, "Son." The elf blinked, a moment's pause in his face as he thought on her words and his eyes sparkled.

"I agree, such terms should not be used." She laughed, and he chuckled, causing the men yonder to look in their direction. "But you are not fully human, I think. My father has long suspected you have elvish blood, and I share his view."

"Eroiwn spoke of it, such deception did not pleased me, but I think you have an adventurous streak in you." She replied. "Halide spoke to me of my heritage, and I believe I must have always known that I was not alike those I lived among. But living away from fellow man made it seem not so obvious. In the short days I have been here, I am very aware of my distance to man, as well as my closeness. They jump when I speak because they hear not my approach, I am willing to help them and they embrace me warmly, the children are not afraid of me, yet wearing this today I feel makes me alien. I exist neither here, nor with you, it is such that makes me feel so different."

"That does not make you lesser." Legolas said softly. "Even with a quarter elven blood you shall have a long life, and can enjoy your heart's desire."

She looked at him sternly, her eyes narrowing. "Haldir did not tell you?"

"Haldir sought council with my father only, he did not speak to me unless to inquire about you. What is it he is supposed to have relayed?"

"I am only a quarter human, the rest of my blood is elven. My mother was half, my father an elf; a son to Amroth and Nimrodel." She said, turning her head back to the group. "I have not had time to think of it, I can barely believe such a thing is possible not to know. But then again I am cursed to having slept for long in starlight, so anything truly possible." The elf watched her, his eyes careful of her discord and unrest.

"You have said nothing of this to my father?"

"No," She shook her head softly. "I wanted it to be a surprise, I thought that it would make him happy, to know I would not wizen into an old maid overnight."

Legolas smiled and nodded at the logic, "It will please him, and have you made your choice?"

"No, not yet." She whispered, "I fear I may make the wrong choice."

"Let your heart guide you, you shall not choose in error." Legolas said, touching her shoulder.

"Thank you, my Lord." She said, touching the hand on her shoulder. "Those words seem to calm my fears. Your father walks over, let us be silent on the subject." As the party reconvened, she smiled at them all, seeing a cold look in Thein's eyes made her pause. "Pray, what plan has been constructed?"

"None that shall concern you." Thranduil spoke, his voice drawled but the tone underneath was soft and commanding. "You are to journey back."

"What?" She said, her eyes flashing in anger and surprise. "You would send me back now, of all times."

"My Lord Thranduil made his wish clear, it was his only condition." Bard said, "And I agree. You have aided us well, but there is no place for you in this fight. It is better that you return and be reunited in safety."

"I could stay in Dale, with the women and children." She argued. "You said this would not be a big fight, and that it would be won easily, so why send me away like I am a cur, tail between my legs."

"Rena." Thein said sternly. "King Thranduil is right to send you back, when the battle ends you have leave to return if you wish."

"You agreed?" She blinked in surprise. "My, and I thought you were as stubborn as I." She turned back to her lover and growled at him. "And who, pray, is taking me away."

"I am child." Thein growled, "Now stop your whimpering and complaining, it is not such an affront."

She sighed in defeat and held up her hands, "I allow it , only because I do not like fighting with you Father."

Thein chuckled, patting her head as he walked past. "You only call me Father when you are losing an argument, or when you are angry. This case it is both. Pack your things, we leave at daybreak."

Mournea growled and swatted his hand away, crossing her arms across her chest, accentuating the strengths in her figure that the dress had highlighted. Thranduil touched her shoulder, striding behind her. She felt her emotions sway, her anger recede with the calmness of the tide. She gave her leave to Bard to follow Thranduil down to the encampment.

Entering his tent, she let her arms drop down to her side, an overwhelming feeling rising in her as tears fell softly down her cheeks. She wiped them, her hands shaking and her lover touched her gently. "Why do you cry, aiwe?" His voice drawled, his eyes watching her. "I send you away for protection, I have seen your skills with a sword, and there is no place for you in battle." He pulled her into his chest, her head on his chest as he held her.

"I do not like leaving you when battle looms for such a reason." She said, her hands around his torso firmly. "This place makes my heart ache for reasons I care not explain."

"You love the people of Laketown." He said stiffly. "I care not for this attachment."

"I love them as I love the dwarves within the Mountain, "She replied, and felt him stiffen. "They live and breathe, their hearts beat in the same imperfection as my own." She looked up at him, touching his face and smiling softly, "But never more than you, _melethenin_." His icy eyes warmed, his lips reaching hers to steady her fears.

"Stay here tonight," Thranduil whispered, "Bind this day with memory so that I may carry it with me to battle." She smiled softly, rising on her toes to bring their faces closer, hands resting on his tall shoulders as she nodded in response.

* * *

"_Mara mesta, melethnin_." He whispered, his forehead on hers as she stood by the edge of the forest, men approaching behind them as he stepped away, a kiss lingering on her lips as he turned, his robes sweeping around his feet as he walked back to camp. Dawn was just beginning to spread in the sky, and the love they had made in the night and this morning rendered the parting bittersweet. She felt every place he had touched as if was there, her skin tingling.

Thein eyed the King as he passed, seeing no evidence of anything under the robe and he growled to himself. Bard walked beside him, seeing the she-elf dressed in the same garb she had arrived in, however the tunic she wore reflected the corset she wore underneath, her figure much fuller this way. Her eyes were on the elven King, deep emotion within her emeralds while her face remained stoic.

"Are you ready child?" Thein questioned, throwing a sack over his shoulder. "We be walking, I have left my horse for Bard and his men." She faced them, her eyes no longer distant, and she nodded. "Alright, we be off then."

Bard nodded and offered the she-elf a hug goodbye, and she gave him one with a smile. "I shall see you again, Mourena." Bard said, "I understand that you may yet be my daughter in law." She chuckled and shrugged, asking him to say farewell to Bain in her stead, and he agreed. "Safe journey my friend."

She stepped back and looked at Thein, touching her head in an elven gesture. As Thein started in the forest, she glanced at Bard quickly, as if a secret were on her lips. "Take care Bard," She whispered, her eyes flashing with a feeling he did not understand. "Take great care this day." She turned and followed Thein, stepping into synch with him as they strode along.

It was quiet as they walked, the distance seemed much farther this time round, nothing to occupy her mind but this uneasy battle her love would enter into. The threat of death made her think of the choice she would make, would she choose to join Thranduil in the next life, or would she choose to remain with those who shared her own beliefs. Her heart hurt at the thought and she shook it, trying to clear her mind. "Do you need rest, Rena?" Thein asked, startling her, and she smiled.

"No, I am fine. My mind wanders, that's all."

He touched her shoulder where the arrow had pierced it, "The arrow left no scar here, that is fortunate." She shrugged and smiled.

"Elvish medicine is a wondrous thing." She replied with a sigh, "I was very lucky."

"Indeed." Thein said, his voice flat. "The King seems taken with you, a look in his eye I do not like. Has he made a pass at you?"

"No!" She gasped, touching Thein's arm. "Never, he has been nothing but the most gracious host."

"He looks at you too readily." He growled, "Such lust should not be tolerated."

"Elves don't lust, Father." She replied.

"Then what are you to him?"

"If you must know," She snarled, not wanted to betray the secret. "I am engaged to him."

Thein looked at her sharply, his eyes hard and cold, sending a chill to her bones. "You are what?"

"Engaged, we are to be married. I love him as he loves me."

"You will not marry him." Thein growled, grabbing her arm and causing her to stop. "I shall not allow it."

"What is wrong with it?" She snapped, "I love him, more than I could ever love another creature. I shall not break my heart, nor his, for your command."

"You mistake me," Thein growled and his grip caused her to wince. "You will never marry that creature." Letting her go, he walked forward, and she eyed him with an anger that could have turned to hate if she'd let it.

"You will not be happy for my Father?" She asked softly, walking to catch up. "I have found the other part of my soul, why can't you smile for me?"

"Because it will not happen." He growled, and he walked faster as she stopped, something within her made her dread this departure. It was now full morning, they had walked for a few hours and she did not know if they were at battle yet.

Something else crept in her mind, and she looked at him as he retreated into the forest, touching her shoulder and she felt a fear she did not understand. She surely was wrong, she must have said….But she had not, never had she been so specific. She swallowed, walking slowly after him as she tried to think of a reason. "Thein," She said slowly, "I never said-." She took a breath, her hands shook. He stopped, turning his head back over his shoulder slightly, his dark eyes holding the same look that chilled her so. He turned his body halfway, a hand on his sword as he smiled, the white of his teeth seemed full of malice. "-it was an arrow."


	28. Fate of the Moon Part 1

_…Impossible._

_Not ….true._

_He wouldn't. _

_Tannin….. wouldn't. _

_Thein …..wouldn't. _

_Truth…._

_Fiction…_

_Lies…._

_Love….._

_Blood._

_Too many_

_Too few_

_Run…. Bain. _

_Go….swiftly. _

_Do not….cry. _

_Save….the others. _

_I…..will …. Be fine_

_Go….fly_

_Death…_

_…..so much…_

_….death._

_I can …not think_

_Where …..am….. I?_

_It is …..so ….dark _

_I do …..not …..like it. _

_I feel … tired,_

_I feel…. cold,_

_I_

_….choose_

_I want …_

_…..to wait_

_….I want …._

_…to_

_…see_

_….him_

_…..once _

_…more. _


	29. Fate of the Moon Part 2

The blood dripped from the sword, the sounds of battle cries and wounded sobs lingered. Thranduil turned, his sword severing a head of a creature as it tried to flank him. They were surrounded, many goblins and wargs had rushed them, even with the wizards warning. His eyes counted 15, 000 goblins, overrunning man, dwarf and elf alike. The mountain seemed a vast swarm of creatures, buzzing in a dance of death. The growls and snarls from wargs did not frighten him, his great friend stood behind him, keeping the wargs away with its horns. 6000 of these foul mutts had overrun the place. Bats flew all over, picking off fighters and aiding the foul vermin in their task of claiming the mountain, and wiping out the dwarves.

What army did they have? 500 of the best dwarven fighters, 200 men from Laketown, half of which had retreated to Dale to protect the women and children when the rest of the wargs and goblins had flanked the city. Thranduil felt the blood of his enemies on his face, his armour shining with it, smeared on the battle field. 1500 elves had be brought, but their numbers were quickly dwindling, even as the wizard fought beside him, having been based on Ravenhill. Thorin had thrown down the wall, crushing many and joining the Ironhills in their fight. He had sent 100 elves to Dale to defend the people, he could not just ignore their death, just like he could not ignore his own.

Thranduil's elf eyes saw the dwarf and his kin fighting his way through the sea of goblins to the leader, and he said a silent prayer for them. As arrogant as they were, this was not a death he wished on any creature. He held little hope for himself, the sheer number of the force they faced was overwhelming. Nothing short of a miracle would save them. A cry reached his ears as he swung his blades around on his foes, the voice of a hobbit. "The eagles are coming!"

It was true, the great birds descended like hell fire, and for a moment, advantage lay with them. He heard the battle cries of Thorin, his brothers in arms defending him as he made for Bolg. Another roar came to Thranduil's ears, a giant bear seemed to appear, his eyes blazing like a wild man's. Beorn bellowed, a great sound that echoed throughout the place. Thranduil signalled, it was time to move down towards the basin from the hill, he had to aid Thorin and his kin as best he could, also protecting Bard who was trapped by a wave of goblins.

In that moment, as they started their descent, he felt a pain through his stomach and he winced inwardly. He cut down the warg that had attached itself to his friend, and the deer bellowed with pain and thankfulness when it was cut down. But the pain persisted as they swept downwards to the hill. Then, like the calm of the storm, an icy cold replaced it, turning to a low warmth that filled him with the desire to press on and finish this fight. Raising a sword, he let out a battle cry to rally his kin as he charged into the sea.

/

_"Have I given myself away so soon?" The man had seemed to become shadow, the darkness of the forest surrounding him and protecting him. "I theorize you won't believe me if I told you Eroiwn spoke of it." His voice whispered, echoing throughout the space like a reverberating hiss. I shook my head, no. There came a deep chuckle, a bone chilling laugh that made the forest quiet. "Then…" The voice hissed in her ear, "…shall I tell you a tale." _

_"No, I don't want to hear-"_

_"Not even about-" It hissed, fingers touching my shoulders; softly grasping as lips touched my ear. "-your mother and sister?" I felt frozen, like a ghost, no one was there again, the shadows consuming the sins surrounding them. Slowly, I breathed again, and whispered; they died along time ago. A low chuckle, like a slow rumbling earthquake sounded from within the trees. "Is that….. what he told you?" I felt something soft touching my hair, like the breeze, yet this breeze had form that could grasp, hurt and even kill. "He lied." The voice hissed, and I realized this was not the same voice I had always known, but yet the tones had been there, always….lurking._

_"He wouldn't." _

_"Oh but he did." The voice said again, "He lied about many things. Shall I tell you…the truth?" I shivered as I felt his lips on my ear, a sickening feeling rose. "It was thirty years ago now, in a small town to the south that I first met your brother. It was in an old tavern, the Merry Shipwreck that I saw them. He came with two women; one with hair like a raging summer sunset, eyes like the richest earth, the other fair haired with emerald eyes, such grace and elegance and beauty. No man could ignore these creatures, no women neither, for Tannin wore his hair long then, silky and braided."_

_His feet seemed to circle as he retreated into shadow, his eyes watching and the feeling turned sinister. I felt unsure of what path to take, dare to run, dare to fight, dare to …listen? "These people wanted rooms, for they had travelled far, from Edhellond. How far had they travelled! These three delicate looking things." The man stepped into the light once more, his face close and his eyes screamed with an emotion that I do not fully understand. "It was overheard that this man, Tael, was leaving for a short journey northwards, leaving these two women defenceless. It was a great shame too, what came to pass." He leaned in, his voice low and soft; yet no less malice lay in the words. "These beauties were taken from the tavern, and there the men did what they wanted. The fair haired one could fight well, but was no match for 20 men, when the other's life was threatened in such a way." _

_I leaned back as the man touched, and he frowned, his eyes filled with sadness that was misplaced. "They were raped, many times and by many people. The fair one, Emile, escaped one night, leaving the other there, and it only got worse. It was then that Tael returned, to find his family missing. He happened upon a young ranger, more soldier then, and I aided him to find them. It was not hard, and Tael fought with greatness, like he was touched by a light that turned into a rage unlike that which I have ever seen. When we found her, Gilmith, she was….I shall spare you that detail." He retreated back, I saw it like the last of his humanity, or the traces of goodness, slipping away. "She could have survived, but it was plain she was broken, her soul crushed. It is like that for elves, you know, rape can break their pure spirits and they die from such a sin. It was her humanity that kept her living, and Tael saw that she would never truly recover."_

_The voice started to transform once more, into a darker version of that voice which had told stories of the great unknown, ghost stories and the like. It grew closer and farther as it spoke, little echoes of the past creeping into the mind as it did so. "He could have dealt a swift blow, to the head or the heart. He chose to slit her throat, the rage within him had not ended and he turned to the remaining men whom we had captured. He offered no such quick death, but a slow torture. I had never seen such rage in an elf._

_"We became partners then, he wanted to find Emile and quickly. And find her we did, but in an unexpected place to be sure. The elven forest does not welcome all, and yet, she had been allowed sanctuary within its walls. Tael demanded she leave, rejoin him, but she refused; labelled him insane. He insulted the witch who resides in that place, and yet she did not seek revenge. An elf seemed protective of Emile, more so than Tael enjoyed and he flew at him. He was thus bared from the forest, and it was then he shared with me a curious tale." _

_The voice reached the ears once more, his hands resting on my shoulders as he continued. "He spoke of another sister, long lost and location unknown. It was what had led them here, to Rohan, the possibility the starlight moving her, drawing her towards her destiny, he did not know. He had spent most of his time searching for this relative, for it had grieved his mother so to have lost a daughter. And so I joined him, and we searched Rohan, we travelled back to Edhellend and the forests there, following a path of starlight that twisted and turned." His hands swept loose strands of hair on the neck away, touching the skin gently and he felt could, and I shivered. "We came upon a place within a forest, and it was so old and forgotten that the path no longer was of this earth. A pattern within the stars led us there, and it was there that I saw, truly found sight. _

_"A lady lay on the forest floor, with roots and flowers growing around her, the roots over her like a protective blanket. In her hair, flowers grew in place of dirt, and silken threads of the smallest spiders made a silver veil to cover her, protect her. It was like nothing I had ever seen, hair and lips like the darkest blood, skin as pale as moonlight. Her eyes were shut, but her lips held a small smile, like she was dreaming of something sweet and kind, a quiet harmony was in that place. I admit….it was hard not to get lost within the tranquility. She had lain there, undisturbed for so many years, but her beauty was like that of the very moon that protected her." His fingers moved along the spine, and caused the head to run, face grave and the paleness he described looked ghostly. "It was there I fell in love, truly saw the side of the world that was unknown to me. In that moment I saw you, my restless heart stilled and I felt a desire to protect you." _

_"Thein."_

_"So much has happened that I did not plan, Tael made me swear not to reveal any of what had happened, not to reveal the nature of the world to you. When we removed you from that place, you did not stir, and we spent three years trying to find a cure. Then a woman came, and she was an elven maiden, how she found us I do not know. She offered a cure, and we agreed, but on one condition, that we brought you to her briefly when you woke. She spoke that it should be left to the forest, for the forest was watching over you, protecting you, and moonlight had caused this and moonlight could reverse it. We did just that, and Tael said he would remain here and wait for the day in which you awoke. I made my way north, I became a full ranger and then one day I received word. I rode faster than the wind, but I rode too close to a great evil. To live I had to strike a bargain, a damned bargain I did not like, and I did not want."_

_The man retreated back into the darkness, his voice almost shouting as he growled out his own sins. "Fool to believe I could out wait and escape this demon! Had it been so, I should have fled far into the north, taken you far away from such an evil. Lo! It drove me thus, farther and farther towards the very place I hated so. You do well to forget how we met in Rohan, I had not seen you awake, and those green eyes transfixed me such. Men saw you in the same way as I, they loved you but not for the right reasons. It was I who loved you, so loved you. I felt my heart grow restless again, for I had so aged where you both stayed the same, yet Tael greeted me as a father, and you in your loveliness did the same. Damnable curse is to be a man, this mortal soul." _

_He stepped into view once more and grasped the delicate shoulders he so admired with hands hard that it elicited a whimper. "Tael was going to take you away from me, but I convinced him we could protect you. He changed his name to Tannin, and changed yours and we moved. Sometimes you fell into sleeps that lasted days, and he often panicked, but I knew you would wake. Something drove you close to the forest, and so I moved us further and further into the plain, away from trees so your desire for the forest was not so strong. Sometimes I found you staring at it, and I vowed Rena, I vowed not to let him have you."_

_"Who do you speak of? Thranduil?" _

_"No." He growled, his voice growing more and more angry, his eyes erratically moving over her. "It would have been better if you died in the forest than fate deal me such a blow. I speak of a darkness unknown to many of this world, for they have never lived through the darkness. There is such a force, a force with which resides in the south of this forest, growing and growing, his power all consuming, but I thank fate he has not the power described in legend, for else I would not have been able to protect you as I have." _

_"Dol Guldur, that fortress? That creature has been swept out!" _

_"You are more the fool." He snarled. "He can not die, not even if I was to try and plunge dagger into his heart." _

_"What deal did you make?" _

_"I curse my sins, though it is pointless to repent." He growled. "He knew such a creature existed, but so far from his reach that he could not grasp it. It is power he sought, and power alone." His voiced dropped to a whisper and his face twisted in guilt. _

_"What power?" _

_"Yours." He said, "This darkness will sweep the land, but as long as there is chance of resistance, more power it key. Foresight is a powerful ally in war." _

_"How did –"_

_"Emile had it too. She did not possess the same type strength, nor would she be won over or taken from Lorien. You, whose gentle nature rendered everyone good and equal in the world, were perfect. What gods there be, they know I tried to keep it secret, Tael drafted potions to block your sight, and I kept you far from man and beast. I thought…..fate would guide you to safety. We could live in peace." _

_"That does not explain-"_

_"He was taking you away!" The man snarled, "Making plans to leave, he was, I knew. He saw how I looked at you, he was starting to doubt the lives we led. I would not let you go so easily. I did not expect agents to come, he was tired of waiting. The darkness wanted you, but such a creature as you would surely die in such a place so tainted. Your escape was not planned, injury yes. But you displayed more elf like traits than what I could render supressed. I had hoped you died in there, for my debt would be void, my curse broken by the very agents of the creature I had cursed my life to."_

_"What would that serve? What reward would you receive?"_

_"I receive nothing, my life is all but forfeit." He snarled, "If you could but forgive my transgressions, we could be happy." He grasped my wrists, sinking to his knees as he cried out, tears fell from his eyes in misplaced anguish. _

_"I have pledged my heart to another, regardless of forgiveness." _

_"Rena, I have loved you for so long, my youth is fading where yours is eternal. Can you not see passed this, this…..misplaced love for an elf to see the feelings true of a man who has sought only to make you happy." He wailed, his grasp getting stronger. _

_"We are one being, there can be no separation." I had cried, trying to wrench myself free. "Let go, Thein you are hurting me." _

_"You will not have me?" He snarled, whimpering first like a wounded animal. "Only you could right my past sins, only you…." He seemed to be lost within his own thought. "Your mother and sister were much the same, or did you fail to see as your brother did." His eyes locked with mine and a dreadful sickness crept over my skin. "Your brother, too eager and naïve to see what was in front of him. It was easy to condemn the very bastards that had acted with him. How young to make such sin was I. Ah yes, it was I who first felt your sister's skin, so soft and smooth, yet she fought with a vengeance, and it ruined it. If only Gilmith had not resisted as such, had not aided in her escape, her fate would not have been so bad."_

_The man stood, his face getting too close, his lips too close and his grasp too hard that only a swift kick could render an escape. "They smelled the same, they felt the same. Small and tender, fleshy and sweet. Long have I wondered if you would be the same." _

_I can not remember clear now, my eyes and mind….are blurred. Movement, I remember. Falling forward into a grasp I did not like, the urge to scream and thrash were not suppressed. It was a heavy struggle, a body on top of another with evil intent. and….ah yes, the pain, that is where it came from. His dagger landed into my thigh, and mine soon after found his face. A harrowing howl resounded the dagger hit his side, allowing for escape. Pain throbbed, now as it did then, the dagger in my hand as my feet moved faster than my mind allows now. There is much more, I can see it unfolding as if in slow motion before my mind. _

_Eroiwn, no. _

_Please. _

_I ….am sorry._

_I could not…._

_…did not_

_See…._

_….the sword…._

_I am….tired. _

_Impossible….._

_Not true….._

_He wouldn't. _


	30. Fate of the Moon Part 3

_The only thought was to run, as fast as possible back to safety. The trees went by in such motion that no time had passed before Dale was in sight. The difference was a horde like swarm was moving on the city, and a group of elves were descending from the far side, Bain and a group of men stood ready, fear so obvious on their faces as a mad scramble began for weapons. His eyes met hers and he cried out as she reached him._

_"Goblins are attacking the city, you must go get Da." The boy griped her wrist and looked distraught, the men were too old and too frail to fight this. "Please." The boy had tears in his eyes, and she smiled at him._

_"You need to be strong for them Bain, can you do that? You must do what I say, hurry. Get the children and women in a safe place, barricade it and no matter what you hear, you must not open it." The boy looked down, his eyes seeing blood that ran down and he gripped me harder. "Bain, you must listen."_

_"You're hurt." He said, and she gave him a shake._

_"Don't worry about me, you have to get these people to safety."_

_"What about you?" The boy asked, his eyes wide as she moved a hand to wipe away a tear._

_"Don't you worry about me. I will be just fine, and so will you. I need you to come to my wedding." The boy nodded and started to move, running off in a particular direction. A howl, or snarl, a sound that made memories return in tandem sounded behind. Turning to face it, in the near distance a warg pack stood, surrounded by goblins. Ugly little creatures that they were. Grasping the hilt of her sword, she drew it ignoring the shaking feeling in her stomach._

_The footsteps of elves caught her ears but she dared not turn back to greet them. Eroiwn blinked, his eyes focused on the enemy and his friend. He saw the blood on her leg and then looked at her dagger, blood stained it and he frowned quickly as the horde moved in towards them. He shouted a command in elvish, and they made their formation. "You should not be here." Eroiwn whispered, "There are too many, I cannot protect you."_

_"I know." She replied, her voice a hoarse whisper as she positioned herself, touching his arm gently as the elf readied himself for battle. She recognised his armour and a deep chill ran through her, she had seen all this before. She swallowed and braced herself as she no longer heard the war cries coming from their enemies. Silence surrounded her as creatures seemed to come out of nowhere, and there was nothing more than the deafening roar of limbo. The silence broke with the clash of swords and shields, the cries of falling warriors mixed with the blood of the enemy. She was aware of people, men and women running to stand with them, forming a circle and fighting with whatever weapons they could muster. Bain was there, and she said a prayer that he would survive this. She had to finally see it for what is was, a slaughter._

_The creatures easily swarmed around them, many men and elves had fallen, and her skin was caked with blood. She shivered as she wielded her weapons, she did not care how much skill she had, she fought to survive, and for the survival of others. Eroiwn fought bravely beside her, and she kept watch for any signs that were like her vision. There was not time for such a thing, but her heart ached with dread and she did not want to see her friend leave, not in death._

_It was a blurr, moving bodies and falling bodies. They had been lucky that so many elves had been sent, and her ears heard the footfalls of men, Bard's men she thought, were coming to help. She removed her dagger from the neck of a goblin and she grimaced as she fought off the next one, seeing movement in her peripheral. She turned her sword and slashed as one dropped down, it landed on her sword and she placed her foot on the creature to remove her blade. The men of Laketown were still far away when the goblins broke through the last of the elven warriors holding the circle together._

_It was a frenzy of limbs, someone's head flew past her and the bile in her throat rose up as she saw the warg advancing. She threw the dagger, it hit its mark and the creature howled in pain as its eye bled. She cursed Thein in her mind for not teaching her how to fight, she cursed Tannin too. Eroiwn let fly an arrow into the beast and it collapsed, its rider flying at them. An arrow hit it, and she saw another elf letting rapid arrows fly, and she felt relieved Legolas was there._

_So many were advancing, and she could not see a light within the tunnel of goblins that were coming after them. She wanted to cry out and scream, but she knew Thranduil would hear, she knew he would come to her and she could not risk his death. The Greenwood needed him, his people needed him. A goblin lunged at her, and she swung her sword, flinching as its head came off. Another was soon in its place and she used her arm as a blocking agent as she swung her sword again. She thanked whichever genius had decided to make elven swords light, or else she would have been long dead._

_She thought she thought she heard a cry, a bird, and she looked to the sky quickly as a shadow flew over heard. She smiled despite herself, it was an eagle. She had never been so happy to see another creature in her life. A body fell beside her and she recognized one of the elves from the Greenwood. She bent quickly and shut his eyes, at least he may find peace. Standing back up, she turned and felt pain radiate through her. She reached out as her vision went fuzzy, a hand landing on a warm shoulder as she regained her vision. The gash across his face, his bloodied hand on her body as he drove the sword in and his words echoed softly in her ear, "I won't let him have you."_

_She gasped, stepping backwards as she clutched the sword within her middle. She saw the goblin cut Thein down, he dropped to his knees and she looked down as the warmth of her blood spread over her hands and she grasped the wound. She heard a whimper from her lips, but no words came as blood way in its place. She stumbled backward, and she felt the arrow piece her skin as she fell to her knees. She felt backwards on her side as blood flowed from her lips as she coughed._

_She looked up, a blurred face in her view as she felt a hand grasp her head, something bitty and cool running down her throat amidst the blood. She looked into the brown eyes of her friend, who was forcing a potion of some kind down her throat, the battle seemed frozen, everything slow motion. "Rînnin, drink." Eroiwn removed his cloak, covering her so she would not be visible in the wake of this slaughter._

_She watched, unable to warn him as he kneeled by her, the slow movements of her mind made the pain extended._

**_Eroiwn, no._**

**_Please._**

_Slowly did a creature climb an old tower, loading his bow in the cruelest slow motion; a goblin archer let his arrow fly and it cut through the air. She felt a tear roll down her face as it hit its mark, and the elf lurched forward, his bow breaking in his grasp as he fought the pain._

**_I …..am sorry._**

**_I could not….._**

_She tried to move, but a coldness fell over her as she watched him stand, grasping two swords he had hidden on his person. He fought like a demon, his enemies falling to his feet as he stood by his queen._

**_…_****_.did not_**

_She hated watching it, every second slow and she felt helpless and sad. His body hit with one arrow after another and still he fought on._

_A warg approached and she tried to warn him, let out a cry, but blood bubbled from her mouth as she lay on her side, a full view of his death._

**_See….._**

**_…_****_.. the sword._**

_The great beast leapt, its jaws clenching down on him, as Eroiwn's second sword pieced through its jaw and the great beast howled. An arrow hit the beast from afar, but it was too late, the elf was dropped to the ground, wounds all over his torso as he coughed up blood, trying to stand before the wave of creature, but he fell with the next arrow, falling to his knees, and she felt the burning of tears as her vision left her once more._

_She tried to fight it, the cold._

**_I ….am tired._**

_She heard all the sounds, but even those were fading. In the darkness, she had only her thoughts; replaying all that had happened. It was just a journey, and for such a short time so much had occurred. She would not give in, she would fight. For Eroiwn, for her friends, and for herself._

**_…_****_.Impossible._**

_A chill swam over her like a sudden storm, her strength ties to her thoughts. She knew she could stay, she must stay._

**_Not ….true._**

_The smell of blood filled her, she felt it on her hand as it clung the sword that was embedded within her. It trickled from her lips as she lay, her eyes closed in an attempt to preserve her strength._

**_He wouldn't._**

_Her brother, her mother. What choices had they made…_

**_Tannin….. wouldn't_**_._

**_Thein …..wouldn't._**

_She felt her breath slowing, her heart beat no longer thumped within her ears, a strange silence lingered there. She opened her eyes, she saw people running past, or maybe...not._

**_Truth…._**

_"Can you hear me?" A voice whispered in the grey void of blurred lines around her. "Hold on -_

**_Fiction…_**

_Shutting her eyes, she reached out her hand slowly, who was there….._

**_Lies…._**

_She had no strength, and she felt her hand go limp before it met with a target. A voice was speaking but she heard nothing, a warmth on her skin, slimy as if it were covered in blood._

**_Love….._**

_"We were too late." Another voice whispered nearby, the faint sounds of swords within her blurred ears._

**_Blood._**

_"Retreat!"_

**_Too many_**

_"There's nowhere to retreat to!"_

**_Too few_**

_"We must go."_

**_Run…. Bain_**_._

_"I won't leave her Da, I can't. Not like this._

**_Go….swiftly._**

**_Do not….cry._**

**_Save….the others._**

_"She promised me Da, she will be fine. We can't leave her, she's still alive."_

_"There is no time."_

**_I…..will …. Be fine_**

**_Go….fly_**

_A growl in the stance, a bellow, it sounded like a trumpet within her ears. The screech of the eagles sounded once more._

**_Death…_**

_Any tension left within her body seemed to fade, and the warmth touching her hand left her._

**_…_****_..so much…_**

_"We will come back, I swear to you. But we must go, now!"_

**_…_****_.death._**

_The world seemed to face away, any sound was mute, no sign of light in the distance. Her mind was near empty, a mere thread upon a seam, dangling._

**_I can …not think_**

**_Where …..am….. I?_**

**_It is …..so ….dark_**

**_I do …..not …..like it._**

**_I feel … tired,_**

**_I feel…. cold,_**

"You should not see her like this." Bard said, his voice low. There was no response from the elven king, whose face looked grave. The bodies were numerous, his trusted friends and kin, how many wounds had they sustained. "We will do what we can." The icy eyes turned on the man, devoid of anger but full of anguish and sorrow like the human had never seen within the creature's face.

"We should tend to the living." A voice said calmly, the grey haired wizard stood nearby, his sword dripping with blood.

A boy ran, his face was white and tears adorned his eyes as he approached the group. Bain could tell that his father had told the news to the King. The elf's face was no longer stoic, a tempest rolled within his eye. The wizard eyed the boy sadly as he stopped, his breaths short. "She is alive. Believe me, I know it."

The King moved past them, his robes billowing as he walked but no longer in a way that demanded respect but engrained within was sorrow. The boy ran ahead, his footfalls not heard by the elf, his eyes scanned the place. Many elves were dead, and yet, there were survivors. His eyes searched for Eroiwn, and he felt a strike of pain within his heart. The warrior lay, too many wounds to count, not far from the girl, a scene that reminded him much of a time long past, but where the elf had survived to bring his son home to him.

Legolas stood, turning his head to face his father and his companions. The wizard looked upon the scene with much sadness, and the Bard lowered his eyes as the sword dropped from Thranduil's hand. The elf moved forward, his eyes unbelieving and yet…..

An elven cloak made it hard to tell the body from the cobblestones and bloody bodies, he there was red hair sprawled out, it had been cut in the struggle. The hilt of a sword was visible, as well as a pale hand, its fingers slack. "I am sorry." Bard said softly, approaching the King from behind with the wizard.

_I_

The King looked to the side, seeing a few of the remaining dwarves approaching, their eyes held tears for their fallen leader. They seemed to startle when they saw his face, and then they looked at the ground by which he stood. Thranduil turned his head back and looked down, dropping to his knees as he reached for her hand. "It should not have been." He said, his voice stony but cracking as it came.

_…__.choose_

"You will see her again." Legolas said softly, touching his father's shoulder. The King said nothing, not daring to touch her hand for fear it was really cold, her soul long fled. Never to see her again. "She had a choice."

_I want …_

"She's not dead." Bain said, shaking his head. "She reached out to me. She promised."

"What did she promise?" The wizard asked softly.

_…__..to wait_

"She said…" The boy sniffed, "I was to come to her wedding."

"Who's wedding?" The wizard asked, "Who was she marrying?"

_…__.I want …._

The King touched her hand, his soul ached as he felt her skin, it was cold like ice, but a twitch in her skin made him want to cry out in anguish. Legolas clenched his jaw and turned his head away, looking at the wizard. "She was Queen of the Greenwood."

_…__to_

The wizard blinked, looking at Thranduil and then at the body, where a slight, very very small rise in her chest could be seen. He walked over, pulling back the cloak and sighed as he looked at the injuries and Thranduil said nothing.

_…__see_

The wizard saw a small vile, and he picked it up, holding to the light. "This is elven."

_…__.him_

"Eroiwn was a great healer." Legolas said softly, turning his face to the sky, not wanting to rehash to death of his comrade.

"Any chance you know what it does?" Bain asked, his eyes pleading to the wizard as Thranduil held her hand lightly, looking at the girl like she was fragile. A broken doll.

"Aiwe." He whispered, touching her forehead.

_…__..once_

"Please don't leave me." He said, the great elf let tear fall from his eyes as he kissed her forehead, his body shaking with emotion he was trying to control. He swallowed and closed his eyes.

_…__more._

A sound startled them, it was low and sputtering. The hand he held grasped him lightly, but it felt like a heavy burden on his arm as he opened his eyes and sat up straighter. The quick motion brought the dwarves trotting over, as they saw the flutter of her eyelids. Blood tricked from her mouth as her eyes opened slowly, the big green eyes looking at her lover. Her eyes held happiness, and she moved her lips in a voiceless whisper that curled into a smile. "_Melethnin_." He felt her grasp go slack, and she eyes shut quickly, a smile still on her lips as all her strength was now gone.


	31. His Breaking Heart

**So few reviews! Thanks to those who did, keep it up! it is how I gauge how well the story is going! Here is the next chapter, please read, review and enjoy!**

The aftermath of the battle seemed to loom like a haze over the mountain, death had come out the victor. So many dwarves, elves and men had been lost. Thorin was given a good burial, the arkenstone was laid to rest with him, and Thranduil prayed the sickness would end there. His mind was clear, heavy as it was, and yet it was hard to concentrate. The wounded were being treated, and Legolas had gone for supplies with a few able bodies. The rest of his kin, either wounded or grieving, were aiding the men of Laketown to build Dale back into the city it once was. It was the right option, as Mourena had pointed out long ago, and it was not like he could just leave.

The great elven King stared at the place that served as her resting place, a wounded area for those with the most grievous wounds. His inner most self wanted nothing more than to ride back to the Greenwood with her, and place all the best medicine in her path. However, that was not likely in her current state. He had wrestled with the knowledge that she had even come to be in this situation, let alone being so near to death once again. If others were aware of his restlessness, they did not show it. He saw the boy leave the place, he visited everyday, and Thranduil knew that in time this child would become a good Lord of Dale. Even if his father was reluctant to accept the title.

"My Lord Thranduil." Bard spoke, the elf merely made a guttural noise in response. "Someone approaches on horseback." The elf looked at him, the man had enough on his plate, and handled it well.

"Ah." The wizard said and the elf gritted his teeth. "It is Legolas, and two others." Thranduil had a great dislike for men when they insisted on speaking the obvious. "I do not know them, do you, Lord Thranduil?"

The elf turned his eyes to the approaching bodies and he frowned, "You cannot expect me to know all elves, wizard."

"No…" The wizard replied, a smile on his lips as he puffed on his pipe. "Just the important ones." The elf gave him an icy look as he turned his gaze back to the tent. The small group travelled out to the edge of Dale to meet them, Thranduil recognizing two the company instantly. Haldir had come with Legolas, which Thranduil did not care for. The two creatures with them were female, their faces hooded but elven none the less. Thranduil watched Legolas' face, Haldir's was much as always; placid. Complacency did not suit him, and yet it radiated.

"Legolas, well met." Bard said, a smile passing between the elf and the man. "I trust you had an uneventful journey."

"It was that." The elven Prince replied as he got down, turning to his father. "Two guested awaited your return father, and have accompanied me here."

Thranduil looked calmly to Haldir, whose face was calm while his eyes held an inner dislike Thranduil found most amusing. "Marchwarden." The King said with a curt nod, his eyes looking at the two creatures on two mounts next to him. "I did not know you resorted to mounted travel."

"It was my decision." A lady spoke, pushing the hood of her cloak back and Thranduil gritted his teeth as he recognized the voice. The brown hair and dark eyes that shone with recognition, "I felt a strong need to make haste, my Lord."

"Mίdhaer." Thranduil said softly, the elf felt what had transpired within her soul. Why else make the journey from Rivendell? He was about to speak when she held a hand softly, tears threatened her eyes and she smiled softly.

"It is too near. Please my Lord." Mίdhaer responded softly, the horse moving with uneasiness. This elven child had always been much connected to the creatures of the world, they could sense her displeasure and sadness much as the trees sensed his own sorrow. "I am here to offer my services."

"I thank you for your aid." Bard replied, offering her a hand as she descended. The man chuckled and the elf looked at him curiously. "I would not have thought that within fifteen days of the dragon being slayed I would have made one, but four elven friends."

"You are fortunate in your friends." Midhaer said graciously, her eyes flickering to Legolas but they lingered before moving to Thranduil. "Not many have had the good fortune to meet King Thranduil."

"I am honored." Bard gave the elf a smile, the resemblance to her father was strong, and it was Eroiwn that his mind had turned to, as he turned to the last companion. "Madam?"

"I do not require aid." The voice said, the voice was smooth and yet held an edge that made him step back. Thranduil eyed the elf curiously as she descended, the hood of her cloak falling backwards to reveal long blonde hair that radiated sunlight. She turned to the elven King, ignoring a subtle look from Haldir. "I come in aid for the elves that have been wounded." Thranduil raised an eyebrow as he studied her, she showed no signs of respect to him, an edge lay on her words and her eyes held walls that suffered no crack. Her eyes shone green, bright as the grass after a summer shower. "Are you going remain transfixed or shall we move on."

"Emile." Haldir said, his voice was smooth but the intention was clear, _Try to behave._

"Such company you keep Haldir." Thranduil drawled, "You must be losing your touch." The elf turned, his robes billowing with each step as he made his way to the wounded area.

"Prince!" Suzy called, her eyes wide as she ran out to meet them and Thranduil knew within his heart Haldir was giving him a questioning look. A little boy ran with her, a child of Dale who no doubt had been helping the adults gather things for food, seeing the basket in their hands. "Excuse me Starlight Prince."

"Suzy, run along." Bard said, giving a soft smile to the children as they eyed the new companions,

"But I have to give this to the Starlight Prince." The girl said, Bard made a move to speak when the King moved his hand slightly to make the man stop. He crouched, the base of his robes touching the ground as he tucked a wide strand of hair away from her face. The girl smiled and nudged the boy, who was clearly uneasy next to the elf. "Keir."

"W-e—e—e- fou-u-und this,-" Then boy stuttered, picking something out the basket. The boy held it out to the elf, his face turning red. "- i-i-in the wood." The flower was a small white flower, perfectly shaped and it seemed to Bard it must have been like a small light within the forest surrounding the mountain.

"This is _simbelmynë._" Legolas said, "I thought it only grew in Rohan."

"It grows as does hope." Midhaer said softly, while Emile looked very pale; almost angry. "That is a special flower indeed she offers the King."

"Can you give to a wren, Starlight Prince?" Suzy said, her voice rich with enthusiasm. "Can you?"

"Where did you learn that term, child?" Emile spoke, her tone bordering harsh and the child eyed her as Thranduil took the flower from the boy.

"You have my word Susan." Thranduil said softly, "Thanks be to you Keir, for finding it." The boy blushed and nodded as Suzy grinned, almost flying at the elf in her joy.

"Thank you, thank you Starlight Prince!" The girl cried, her basket wobbling along with its contents.

"Go Suzy, before you drop half those herbs." Bard said, shooing the children away as the elf stood. Emile eyed him, her temper rising as Bard moved in front of her to move the children along.

"Step aside, _adan." _She almost hissed. Thranduil turned his profile fierce as he held up a hand to her.

"Do not forget whose presence you are in. This is Bard, Lord of Dale-" Thranduil drawled as Bard winced at the title, and Thranduil placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "He fought along side myself and Eroiwn with honor." Mίdhaer lowered her eyes in sorrow for a minute, her hand touching Emile's wrist to stop the elf from lashing back out.

"Forgive her, Arannin." Mίdhaer spoke, raising her eyes to his. "Some wounds are too fresh for her."

"Do not speak for me." Emile said, her eyes turning to Thranduil. "Where did that _adan_ learn that term: Starlight Prince?" She asked, raising her chin. The elf was decidedly short than the rest, and while she had stone around her heart, her outward tenancy was gentle, and worried. Those emotions were plain.

"Emile." Haldir spoke, touching her arm as he saw a wave of torment pass through Thranduil's face, within the inner most depths the elf had faltered in his persona. "Go with Mίdhaer." He said softly, and Emile glanced at him, her look softening instantly and Thranduil almost snorted.

"Which way to the most critical patients?" Midhaer asked, and Thranduil turned his head to the place, the motion held there was obvious to her, and Bard touched the King's arm and she blinked in surprise. "You care deeply, Arannin. I shall do my best."

"Come," Legolas said softly, offering Mίdhaer his arm as they walked towards the tent. Emile did not move as she waited for her answer. Haldir bowed his head in respect for the elf, as it was clear the female was not going to surrender her point.

Thranduil stared back at her, and he smirked after a time when her gaze faltered. She finally moved aside, avoiding going near Bard as she walked to the place in question. She seemed to float along, her head held high. "I apologize Thranduil." Haldir spoke, "She has no good will towards men. I fear it was not wise for her to come."

"And you could not stop her?" Thranduil drawled, turning with Bard to travel to another destination. "How unlike you, Haldir."

"She is not under my control." Haldir responded stiffly. "She was offered a home in Lorien, and took it willingly. She bows only to my Lady. Loathe am I to admit it."

"So, the great Haldir has fallen." Thranduil snorted, a smile playing on the edge of his lips. "I would not have thought such an elf would involve himself with such a child."

Haldir said nothing, alas his displeasure at being so easily read become known. "I gather Eroiwn fell in battle." He said softly after a time. "Midhaer's presence in the Greenwood surprised me greatly. The trees held such sadness, I wondered as to what had transpired."

"He died bravely." Bard said softly, "Truer a hero I have not known."

"He is at peace." Thranduil spoke, his voice low and soft. "He has joined his beloved. He could not ask for more."

"And you, Thranduil." Haldir said, "Are you at peace?"

Thranduil looked at him coldly, "I do not recall you having a talent for asking stupid questions Haldir."

The elf smiled, his eyes showed no offense was taken. "The lady eagerly followed you here, yes? Despite the order. She braved your displeasure."

"Higher purpose drove her here." Thranduil spoke, turning his head away. "She should not have come." Haldir watched the elf and the man, whose emotions lay more plainly.

"What transpired? Legolas mentioned nothing." Haldir questioned.

"She fell in battle." Bard replied, his voice low as he shifted his eyes to the floor, before looking towards the elf with clear eyes once more. "Her fate remains uncertain, teetering between the living and the dead. It would be…easier if she passed. Then at least she would be free of her wounds."

"Mίdhaer should tend to her quickly. She rivals her father in skill." Haldir spoke, stopping the two. "Pray let us take her now. Emile will aid the rest."

"It is wise, to leave that upstart with wounded men?" Thranduil drawled, his eyes watching the warden carefully. "She is more likely to poison them."

Haldir frowned, his eyes utterly unamused. "Perish the thought."


	32. Love Abounds

**Here is the next chapter! Please read, review, and enjoy!**

"My Lord Legolas." Mίdhaer spoke softly as they walked along, the moonlight was streaming down lightly, the sun still lingering on the horizon. The elf maiden showed no signs of tiredness while her hands were stained with blood and lingering herbs. She looked to the trees, they were hushed in the wake of such a disaster and their silence left her uneasy.

"Mίdhaer," He responded, his voice soft and smooth, his closeness to her in physicality and spirit made her mind wander. "What troubles you?"

"I wonder-" Midhaer said, her head turning to him, a soft surprised smile on her lips as she found him so near. "-is it wrong for me to wonder if he is at peace?"

Legolas' eyes softened, his hand touching her back slightly, "No, never. He is at peace, and you know you shall meet again."

"Yes, I know it." She said, facing forwards once more. "But I feel the void he left most keenly."

"Time shall heal it." Legolas said softly, his eyes watching her with a certain tenderness. "And…love may heal it." The maiden turned to him and stopped, her eyes downcast.

"You know it may never be." She whispered. "You are a Prince, and the pleasure of your company has been one of the greatest pleasures I have ever known, do you think your father will not object? I am not his first choice."

Legolas touched her cheek, his eyes betraying no answer to her question. "Is my love not enough to sustain you, do you such desire his permission?" Mίdhaer looked up, her eyes strong and unamused.

"I would wish it, since he is your father. I will not act in any way that would deny you what you are entitled." She replied, stepping away. "Regardless of my own feelings, my Lord, I can not continue in such a way. His sight extends beyond that of a normal man. I have no great wish to displease him."

"He has proven to give in to rash behaviour, I declare he will resolve himself to the idea." He smiled, glancing over to the place where Mίdhaer's subject lay in limbo. "I had not known him to –"

"Do you think he will grant you the same?" She asked, her voice smooth yet questioning. "My Lord, fathers are not in habit of allowing the same privilege to their children. Elven or otherwise. The lady in question must inspire such gravity of feelings that he would place her health above the others in need."

"She is." Legolas nodded, and Mίdhaer smiled at him.

"Now heed my advice, my Lord. I am your elder, and my word is valued." She replied, and he smirked, his hair shining in the growing moonlight. "I should return, I fear my skill inadequate to heal all, but I must try."

"As your junior, of a mere century, I confess I put all faith in your skills. I know you shall succeed." The elf replied, offering her his arm as they walked toward the tent once more. "I dislike being the younger as much being the older. I fear it is a great misrepresentation in either case."

"Why my Lord?" Mίdhaer asked gently. "You are not to blame for having inferior wit." She smiled as he shot her a look within his eyes that made her laugh, he looked so like his father in that way. "You will have to settle for superior sword play then."

"You make fun of me." Legolas mused, pursing his lips as he turned his head away.

"I tease you, yes." Midhaer patting his arm softly. "It reminds me of our youth. My one flaw, I recall you father saying, was my ability to achieve a rise out of you." He shook his head as they walked, no tension lay there. As they reached their destination, he released her arm. "Why does he not visit?" She whispered.

Legolas watched her face, it fell slightly before recovering. "I can not say. Perhaps the pain it too great to bear."

"I speak to her, believing she can hear my voice. I can feel her fighting, sometimes. She has much strength, but I do not know if it is enough." She spoke softly, lowering her face before raising it. "She is not what I expected."

"Of a child of two races?" Legolas asked quietly. "She does not look it, I agree."

"The way you described her, I expected some sort of flaming vessel. But she is not." Midhaer said watching her Prince as he looked uncertain. "Her hair, it is not like anything I have ever seen, not like what I conquered in my mind."

"How do you mean?"

The maiden beckoned him inside, where the charge lay still upon a table like structure. Legolas blinked, his eyes not trusting his sight. The dark red, so long had it held her temper and spirit, now seemed fused almost impossibly with starlight. Strands of silver ran within her head, mixed with the darkened colour, even within the darkness of the place he could see it clearly. "What magic is this?"

"Magic? You mean her hair was not as such?" Midhaer asked, making light within the room. "It was there when I attended her the first day. Perhaps, yes it has gotten more extensive. As if she is entrenched in starlight." Legolas looked at her with an odd expression and she smiled softly. "Do you not think that such a creature would be from the sky, Legolas. She is as if the moon was with us, dancing upon the sun's dying embers."

"I think you have not seen too many sunsets, my elder." He replied, and the smile she wore brightened. "I shall leave you to attend her, my love." He slipped away to escape any chastising look she may have thrown at him. His thoughts wondered back, before their journey here, when the Lady had come. She had asked to see Eroiwn privately before leaving. He wondered if this potions or vile was her doing. She may have known such a thing may occur, he did not trust her.

/

"You have not yet answered my question?" The maiden said, her tone cold as she faced the elven King. "If it was but trivial I would not ask. It is the least you may do, since I provide such aid."

"Can you not do so without condescension?" He drawled, his position in his seat relaxed and stern. "I shall, yet again, ignore this indiscretion due to your youth. But shall not bestow this privilege again."

"I do not see how this is so wounding." She retorted. "It is simply enough."

"You're ability to be rude seems closer to your nature than the gentleness you show our mutual friend, Haldir." Thranduil retorted, his voice seemed to hit her square in the heart, and her face flashed with mixed emotions. She opened her mouth to respond, but could not and the blush that followed made her turn her head away. "Leave, I tire of this."

The maiden turned on her heel, walking out with grace and poise. The blond lady was fuming underneath her calm expression. She sought out the only other person with whom she could talk to. The tent was dimly lit, the severe patients within. The elf looked up at her when she entered, her eyes held an inner caution until the entering person was recognisable. "Is the marchwarden here?"

"You have eyes, do you not?" Midhaer responded. Emile sniffed in return, looking at the patient and shaking her head in disgust.

"Why do you help these creatures?" Emile asked, her voice gone soft. "They would not repay such an action."

"You ere, in action and reason." Midhaer replied, "I can tell you are angry, and I understand to forgive is not within your intentions. But you must not let the past cloud your vision." The elf finished binding the patient's leg back up, the man was passed out from pain. "These men fought with elves and dwarves alike. They do not deserve such constant harshness."

"They will die anyway, it is their fate." Emile responded, looking at many of the others who remained in this dark place. "We have been here nearly three weeks, and many of these creatures are not better."

"They do not heal like you or I." Midhaer responded. "Shall I discard the value of their lives because they are not an elf?"

Emile looked at her sharply, her eyes clouded as she dropped her gaze to the ground. The elf maiden wiped her hands on a cloth, the bright colour of blood upon it. "I do not like this conversation."

"Do not bother Haldir with it." Mίdhaer said, her voice turned steely. "I have much to do, if these men are to keep their limps. There is much infection here. If you will not help, then please, take your leave." The elf's voice returned to its soft nature, and she turned her back to Emile as she moved on to the next patient.

"What about the woman that has attracted so much attention? Do her wounds not heal?" Emile asked, her curiosity rising.

"Slowly." Midhaer said softly. "I do not know when she might wake, or how badly the damage or infection has seeped in her blood. "

"*Guren bêd enni." Emile spoke softly, "She shall wake; for what good or purpose must linger in agony I do not know.

"Valar valuvar" Midhaer responded, her language Quenya and the elfling's was Sindarian. "Go, Emile."

The elf turned around, leaving the place no more contented. She walked in with no purpose, gliding along until she stopped. Bard and his son were sitting round a fire, the elven King sat with them, his son beside him. She found it odd that he would do so, he was not a friend to men, he acted with no such partiality. She watched from a distance, her ears picking up any conversation.

"It is not good to eavesdrop." A voice moved in the darkness, its presence no less sudden than it was wanted. The elf stepped out of the shadows, his eyes watching her as she refused to look at him. Her long golden hair seemed to shine in the moonlight, as did his own silver locks. He was dressed in a rich royal blue, and it pained her heart to be so near to him yet so far away.

"Ridicule away." Emile said, her voice low.

"You sought me." Haldir responded easily, stepping closer. "I merely respond to it." She tilted her head up, the moon shining in her eyes as she hid her thoughts. "Elen síla lúmenn' omentielv." Emile looked at him, her eyes distrusting his words.

"Yet we remain so far apart." She turned her head back to the dark sky and shut her eyes. "Was my brother right, Haldir? Am I so lessened in your eyes?" She shook her head and looked toward the elven King who sat facing them, his eyes seemed to look through them in the dark. "Yet one wonders if it was true, would not love render it void. A mere remnant of a past life."

"Such falsity could not exist within me." Haldir said softly, looking toward Thranduil. "I cannot merely act in freedom, regardless of my position" The elf let the silence grow, his words losing their edge or rebuttal. "And that past still wounds, would it not be unfair to expect a union."

"You once said time would heal all wounds." She whispered, turning her head away to the darkness. "This courtly love, it neither grows nor deteriorates. Has it come full circle? I do not understand my own heart." Emile said, her voice saddened. "But I wonder-" She took a breath, moving away in the darkness, "If coming here was a mistake."

Haldir stepped, his hand reaching her arm in a gentle hold. In the darkness, his eyes seemed to be asking her to wait, regardless of his heart's path. Emile could not help but look up at the elf, the reason she had stayed behind when her brother came for her. He said nothing, the closeness between them was like an ocean, warm and full of current, yet cold and vast.

She often wondered if Tael was alright, if he had given up that pitiful search for a person or creature that did not exist. Even if he had found her, she was not her family. Elves were closer to her then men, despite what her mother had taught her. She hated yet feared them, their hearts were not pure or kind. Her own saving had come with Haldir, her heart and body drawn to him. But within the walls of Lorien, she found herself an outsider. In Haldir, she had found a friend whose fate was much bound to those of others.

"I must return." Emile said stepping away, gliding away into the darkness.


	33. Crown of Reddened Starlight

**_Here is the next chapter, please read, review and enjoy!_**

* * *

_I will not let him have you._

**_These dreams, _**_a voice is calling._

_Rinnin, drink this._

**_they should, _**_sweet and smooth, I can hear it._

_Aiwe._

**_Linger _**_Calling to me._

_Please don't leave me._

**_no longer. _**_Whose voice?_

Light flickered softly through, the soft bird song on the air. Her eyelids slowly moved, like a great weight had been upon them. As they raised, her eyes saw light once more; enough to render her unsure of her place. It was a strange, unearthly place, lightly dusted with snow and the faint smell of food in the air. Swallowing, her eyes moved to try and look around, there was no overwhelming sight to behold. Memories seemed to replaying long enough in her mind, and she fought them away. Taking a small breathe, she placed a hand on her stomach as she sat slowly, pain rippled through her body. Silver strands fell over her shoulder, mixed with a red that seemed strangely familiar.

The ground seemed a fair drop away, and gingerly did she lay a bare foot upon it. Cold yet welcoming to her, it greeting her feet. She felt shaky, yet a strength pushed her onward. Stepping forward, she used her free hand to move the fabric away from the enclosure. Light swarmed her eyes, an orange hue to it. _Does the Hall have sunsets? _She wondered, her eyes shutting to block out the light. It felt like it was invading her senses fully. _How long had it been since I have truly felt the sun?_

She opened her eyes, sheltering her face as she stepped out, turning away from the light. She took in the place where she was, yet she felt as if she had no place in it. It was strange, familiar yet distant. Stepping toward the sounds of voices, she marched slowly. Her feet seemed to glide along, she felt neither the steps nor the distance travelled. Sometimes she had to pause to regain her breath, small waves of pain seemed to wrack her body, but she pressed on.

Stopping, she leaned on a stone pillar, closing her eyes as she leaned her head on the stone. _Where are the inhabitants of this place?_ The rest and fall of her chest was easy, no corset restricted her. A silver gown adorned her, light and airy yet thick enough to preserve her vanity. She wondered if this was the traditional elven wear of the place, this dream like state.

She started to wander once more, opening her eyes and walking. She touched the trees, they seemed to greet her and their warmth renewed her strength. She heard the birds, their songs louder and warmer and she extended her hand to them. One flew to her, its voice joining with the others and she smiled in a sleepy happiness. As the bird flew away, she paused to look up at the sky. Somehow a peace flooded her, it was comforting and filling. It seemed almost to exist outside of her own body, coming from another. Her head turned, the feeling of warmth in her stomach made her wander back to the stone buildings.

The hand on her stomach felt tired, as if holding in the pain was somehow its burden. She pushed it aside, it would soon dissipate. The sun warmed her skin, and she felt less dreamy; as if sleep was being chased from her body. Snow felt like silk under her feet, and her hands touched the stone as if to wipe way the grief that lay there. A little bird flew to her, fluttering around her and she extended her hand to it.

"A wren?" A small voice asked in the distance, and she turned her head to face the sound. She looked to see the body of a small child running towards her. _How is that possible?_ The child stopped at her feet, a small tiny creature, looking at her with confused, yet wide eyes. "A wren? Are you a wren?" _A wren? _"You don't look like a wren." A flash of recognition was on her face, and the child's eyes went bright, "Are you the Starlight Princess?" She blinked, smiling softly as the girl stepped forward and touched her hair.

"I think, maybe." Mourena responded softly, looking down at the child. "Suzy?"

"You sound like a wren," The child gasped, suddenly hugging her legs tightly, causing Mourena to gasp as she winced in pain. "You woke up, I knew you would." The child squeezed her, and Mourena smiled softly as she held back any reaction from pain that came to her once more. "I picked you a flower, did he give it you?"

"He?" She asked, looking down at the child.

"Starlight Prince." The child said, taking her hand with an expectant expression.

"Can you take me to him?" She asked softly, and the child nodded, trotting along and Mourena let her hand go free and the girl stopped, seeing the look on the face of her companion.

"A wren?" Suzy asked, her eyes clearly upset at her friend's pain. "I'm sorry, -

"It is alright. I am just tired, Suzy." Mourena responded, offering her a smile. "Perhaps, I may walk behind you as you go ahead." The girl hesitated but nodded after proper reassurance. Running along, Suzy often turned to wave before sprint off to whatever location within Dale her Prince awaited the news. Mourena regained her composure, the warmth of yearning to see him renewed her. No dream, not this time. No foggy view of her lover's face, tormented in the wake of death.

She walked slowly, her eyes looking at the place. The elves had been helping them rebuild, it seemed. Many places were restored and looked livable. The stones still held some bloodshed, but the weight of victory would linger far more than death itself. A person stepped out, a frantic look upon her face and Mourena stopped, her eyes meeting the one before her. The elf's eyes looked her up and down quickly, the deep brown eyes clear and knowing. "You should not be walking, let alone outside." The voice was smooth and calm, sweet yet…

"You can not be." Mourena whispered, her mind suddenly swarmed with thoughts and memories connecting dots, placing a hand on her forehead. The elf approached quickly, her hand coming to rest on the patient's arm lightly.

"Come, please, the strain is too much." The elf said, her words soft. Mournea lowered her hand from her head, touching the elf's cheek lightly and the maiden blushed slightly in surprise.

"You have his eyes." She whispered, and the maiden's eyes flashed with emotion. "You are Mίdhaer?"

"I am." The elf responded, her hair shining in the light. The dark hair and dark eyes that glistened resembled much of her father. Mourena nodded softly, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"So, it was not a dream." She said, looking back to where she had come. "A voice guided me, lest not I linger on. I did not-" Her voice caught, and the elf smiled slightly as she touched the patient's cheek – much in the manner before.

"Be still." Mίdhaer said, her voice soft. "Now is not the time." The elf maiden took the patient's arm, steading her as they walked forward. The elf had been deeply troubled when she had returned to see her patient gone, vanished so suddenly. It relieved her to know it was not a trick, but a restless awakened soul.

"Did you find her?" A voice called out, and a blond turned a corner, stopping short. Mourena was aware of her beauty, long golden hair with eyes that glistened like polished gems. She shared Mourena's height, and held her own countenance well, despite the feeling Mourena had of great pain. "Ah, good."

If recognition within her head occurred, it was bypassed by a wave of emotion. It rocked her, and she closed her eyes as she seemed to sway. Midhaer grasped her arm hard as the women's weight seemed to teeter. The feeling, it pulled her, crushed her, enveloped and warmed her. _He knows._ Opening her eyes, she turned her head, facing the direction the feeling was coming from. Letting out the breath she had been holding, she unlinked herself from the elf, despite her protests. She walked, as if she were floating, footsteps following her rapidly. His hope, his worry and his pain flooded her, it was neither positive nor negative, but the crushing weight of his emotions had been lifted, stilled.

"You need to rest," Mίdhaer was saying, her words falling on deaf ears. "Please desist." The woman stopped, her silvered hair swayed against her shoulders and back, the silver acted like a veil around her head, the red seemed to glow in response. She was a haunting creature, and Mίdhaer did not understand her actions. Was she so determined to become a ghostly apparition? The woman turned her head, her eyes of green searching, her lips parted in a word.

Stepping forward, Mourena walked again, but the blond elf cut her off. "You should listen when spoken to." The maiden said, her hands placed firmly on Mourena's shoulders. Their eyes locked for a moment, Mourena moved easily away, backing up, her eyes now searching for her loved one. She moved quickly, standing behind two men as she looked toward where a small child was running towards them.

"I am glad you lived." Bard turned his head and nearly jumped at the face that stood by him, her pale skin and thin face seemed to glow in the light. The grey haired man turned, puffing on a pipe as he watched.

"Have we met?" He asked, and she turned her eyes to him briefly.

"Perhaps." She replied softly, "But within a dream." Her eyes turned to the child running in their direction, a happy smile on her face. Flickering her eyes to bard quickly, "Bain-?" Her voice caught, "-I remember-"

"He is fine." The man replied, placing a hand on her shoulder. "He is anxious to see you, as was I. It does me good to know you shall remain with us." Mourena smiled softly, her eyes slowing moving to the large figure approaching. She felt, rather than saw the movement of his robes. She could already feel his warmth, the rise and fall of his chest while his heart beat remained at a steady rhythm. Bard shifted his gaze, the elven King approached, his robes billowing out behind him, face fierce yet his eyes held a hidden want - one that he had seen before.

Everyone else seemed to dissolve. There was nothing more as their eyes met, he stopped as if his distrusted what he saw in her. Her eyes searched his as she slowly stepped forward, wincing at her own exertion. He seemed to be at her side then, yet he faced her, his hands steadied her as his lips found her forehead. "Aiwë." He whispered, cupping her face in his hands. "I dared not-"

"You asked me to stay." She responded softly, the dream like words flooded back to her. "In that, I could not disobey." She placed her hand lightly on his waist, the other remaining where the throbbing was. They stayed in that moment, the world coming back into focus once more.

"Arannin, she needs to rest." Mίdhaer spoke softly, watching the two closely. Mourena turned her head as she stepped closer to him, rested against him as his arms fenced her in. "She is only just awake."

"It matters not." Thranduil spoke, his voice deep and rich with emotion. "The danger has passed." The elven King could feel her shudder in his arms, the intensity of the emotion between then was obvious, its power could wane her strength. "I concede, Mίdhaer." He spoke after a time, eyeing Haldir and Legolas as they approached.

"Must I away?" Mourena whispered, looking up at him as he stepped back. "When I have just found you again?"

"You shall not be alone, Rinnîn." Legolas said, and she looked at him as the three elves unaware of the situation reacted to the word. It was clear enough on their faces they had not been informed of this detail. "One of us shall stay with you."

Midhaer watched them, her eyes flickering to both. "I understood there was an engagement, but – Arannin, I did not know-"

"Hush, Mίdhaer. It was not disclosed." Thranduil spoke, his Queen in his arms where she belonged.

"Were we to be informed?" Haldir asked, his eyes searching the King's for some sort of answer.

"It is true!" Bain cried, his rapid footsteps detailed his approach. Thranduil turned his head and Mourena smiled, outstretching her hand to the boy.

"Hello, my little dwarf."

"I am not," The boy cried, touching her hand as Thranduil opened his grasp so the boy could be hugged by his wife. "I had two growth spurts since I last saw you." She wrapped her arms around him, and he did the same, tears threatened on his face and he shook. "I'm sorry."

"Do not fear." She whispered, "I am well you see." She hugged him tightly despite her pain, comforting the boy as much as she could.

"Alright, that is enough embracing." Thranduil growled, prying the two apart. He picked her up, his arms lifting her so easily as he walked her to her quarters. Midhaer walked with him, a smile playing on her lips as they returned.


	34. Restless Waiting

**Here is the next chapter! Thank you for the continued reviews, I really appreciate it. Any input on where you might want it to go from here, or any requests you all may want; please make! You can PM me or post it on a review. Please read, review and enjoy!**

She lay on the bed, her head laying on its side as she opened her eyes. He sat beside her, his long silver hair over his shoulder as he read something, his eyes flickering to her quickly. "You are awake." She offered his a smile and she reached out her hand to him, he took it, shifting his position to be closer to her.

"Must I really lay here?" She asked, his elbow propping his head up as he curled her arm back over her body, his fingers entwined with her own. She watched his blue eyes, his elegant face and the emotion that lay there. "I am well."

"I would prefer to lock you away." Thranduil drawled, a smile playing on her lips as he spoke, "I do believe you were safer in the cellars." He kept his face serious and she smiled broadly, and he snorted. "Such enjoyment, from my displeasure." She said nothing, closing her eyes in pain as she chuckled.

"You would lock me away to protect me?" She said softly, looking back at him. "I dare say that proves difficult to accept." He narrowed his eyes at her and she watched him, her expression soft.

"You seem to encounter danger more often than not." Thranduil drawled, "You are safer within the Greenwood."

"I am alive yet." She retorted softly. The King snorted again, and she felt the tightened grasp of his fingers.

"I have no wish to endure this again." He spoke, his voice low and eyes tender as he put his face closer to hers, touching her forehead with his. She knew it must have been agony for him, as it had been for her. She whimpered and moved her head so their lips met, a tear dropped on her face and she opened her eyes to look at him.

"I did not enjoy this, melethnίn." She said softly, and she saw him clench his jaw. Their noses were touching, their eyes locked. "What pain you must have felt. I am, so very sorry." She whispered to him, and he shook his head slightly.

"It is no more your fault than mine." He said plainly, "Blame lies with a war that blindsided us all. I will not ask why you returned, in time perhaps."

"It is nothing so unexpected." She said, sighing. "It is my own blindness that I blame. If not, maybe Tannin would be here still, and-" She closed her eyes, fighting back the memories that were still so fresh on her mind. "-Eroiwn." Thranduil touched her face softly, his thumb moving a strand of her hair away from her face.

"There is something we must discuss." He spoke, his voice turning Kingly once more. She watched him expectantly, and he formed his steely face, his eyes cold. "Before your rescue, a patrol came upon a scene they did not like. Many dead orcs, and a dead horse. But no people. It was some time afterward I heard your call."

"You mean-?" She asked, her eyes flashing with an emotion she did not understand. It hardly seemed possible, her hope had once been misplaced and it was not an experience she wanted to have reoccur. But the chance, even how small, that her brother may live was too much to think of. "Tannin may not?-

"I do not know, aiwë. Many were dead, and there was a broken bow. I did not think it was related, but it plagued me often after our meeting. Much searching was done, nothing yielded." His eyes were soft, his thumb making a soothing gesture on her temple. "I did not want to give hope where none lay. Was it wrong to tell you now?"

"No." She smiled at him, the worry in his eyes faded as she spoke. "I am glad if it is so, he did not deserve that. Yet, I have no desire to seek him out. I do not trust my own memories, not after – Thein loved me in his own twisted way - his intentions fueled by guilt and the need for salvation. Tannin hated elves as much as men, and hid so much from me. I feel that the cloud within my mind has been lifted, melethnίn, blindness will no longer be my folly."

"Aiwë, kindness is not a folly." He said softly, "Do not mix to two." He kissed her, and she wished for more mobility so she could not be separated from his kisses. Midhaer walked in behind them and he retracted, a smile in his eyes as she sat back stiffly.

"Arannίn, I do believe that the condition was for Rînnίn to rest." The elf maiden scolded her King, in a sweet voice. "It must be adhered to."

"Am I to be scolded by a healer?" Thranduil drawled, "Am I not allowed to kiss my wife?" He leaned back, straightening. Midhaer chuckled, touching Mourena's head.

"Not in this condition." Midhaer replied, "While the danger has past, the body must recover to match the mind." The elf maiden smiled at her patient, and the woman smiled back as Thranduil rolled his eyes – looking away. "If you cannot comply, I can shall ask Bard to escort you." Thranduil looked back at the elf, her eyes held a mischievous glint and he growled.

"You would invite him to sit with _my_ wife." He snarled, his eyes meeting hers equally. The elf did not back down, causing Thranduil to inwardly curse Elrond for indulging her.

"At least I would know my instructions were heeded." Midhaer responded smoothly, and Thranduil clenched his jaw in response.

"Stop, please." Mourena said, a smile on her face as she closed her eyes. "You shall induce me to tears of laughter, and pain. Another topic, I beg of you." Midhaer smiled, her face shining in humor as Thranduil grunted at the elf's discourse.

"It is a pleasant day, for snow." He growled, and the two ladies laughed, Mourena placing a hand on her stomach as she watched his displeasure. He looked at her, and she outstretched her hand as she winced. He took it, not hiding the smile that molded on his face.

"May I say, your hair is lovely, Rînnin. I have never seen the like." Mίdhaer spoke, moving away as she began to prepare a potion of some kind."

Mourena touched her head, her hair was now a strange mix of silver and red. She did not know why it had happened, but like most of her life thus far – it did not seem to warrant explanation. "I thought I must have been dead, why else would I have silver hair so strangely. Then I realised," Mourena looked at Thranduil with care, her eyes shining once more. "- I do believe now your enemies won't be able to differentiate between us."

"From a distance." Thranduil drawled, "Perhaps." Mourena smiled and he shook his head, Midhaer chuckled from her spot. "But they would be decidedly not elven."

"I disagree my Lord," Mίdhaer said, approaching the patient once more. Thranduil helped his bride sit up, enabling her to drink the concoction. Mourena grimaced when she was done, touching Thranduil's hands as she finished.

"I thought elven medicines were essence of goodness." Mourena said, wiping her lips.

"They are," Mίdhaer responded, "That does not afford good taste, Rînnin."

"Taste one, for my sake. It is wonder I survived the foul things." Mourena grumbled, leaning back into her lover's chest as he sat behind her.

"You would not have to suffer the taste if you had but listened to me." Thranduil drawled, and Mίdhaer watched them carefully as Mourena pursed her lips in distaste. "Midhaer, tell me." The elf maiden stopped and looked at the King, watching his expression. "Shall travel to Greenwood be able?"

The elf mused on this question, and she nodded slowly. "Perhaps, in three days' time. As long as my Lady has regained enough strength to make the journey." Thranduil nodded in understanding and thanked the maiden. His bride seemed to be falling back into sleep, and he waited until it claimed her.

"You have formed an attachment with my son." He spoke as he laid Mourena's head upon the bed once more. The elf maiden did not stop her movements, and was glad he could not see her face for there was a heat on it. "I am not wrong?" Midhaer said nothing, she turned, meeting his gaze with a calm face. "And he you, I am to understand."

"I respect my Lord Legolas greatly, but suffer no illusions." Mίdhaer replied, her hands clasped infront of her.

"A cold answer." Thranduil drawled, "No doubt you wish to protect him." He covered his bride, touching her hair softly as her chest rose and fell. "Doubt not your heart, if true, Mίdhaer."

"My Lord, this – "

"Father." Legolas said, stepping into the space. Mίdhaer did not move her eyes from the King, her face calm. "How is she?"

"She is well enough, considering." Thranduil responded, his eyes flickering to his son. "Mίdhaer truly has a gift for healing, and I am grateful to her."

"Yes." Legolas said, turning his face to the maiden with a soft expression. "We are indeed in your debt."

"Thank you for such kindness, but I must tend to the other patients." She gave a polite bow and walked out, her movements fluid and quick. Legolas watched after her, sensing something was wrong within the situation.

"What did you say to her?" Legolas asked, turning his head back to face his father. "She would not have run off like that."

"Come Legolas," Thranduil sat, his hand touching that of his bride. "There need be no harshness here. I was speaking of Mίdhaer's heart." He drawled, watching the tender hand in his own. "You know she is in love."

Legolas looked at him sharply, his face calm while his emotions rolled beneath the façade. "She is." The elf stood at ease, his blue eyes watching his father with caution. "I was hoping to speak to Mourena about such a subject." Thranduil looked at him and narrowed his eyes. "She is my mother and my queen, and while she is young – " He said, his mind racing to formulate the right response. "-she possess knowledge I do not. I was disposed to seek her advice."

"You would seek advice from one other than myself?"

"I do, when it concerns the feminine heart." Legolas responded, "I could not discuss an issue of love with you."

"Indeed." Thranduil spoke, his voice smooth and his eyes cold. Inside, he held an inner delight at this game. His son, however years he lived, could still be fooled by his old father. As he watched his son leave, he smiled, looking at his bride with a tender expression. "Melethnίn, we have much work to do."


	35. Let us Home

**Well, my dear readers, this marks the end. I have explored all I need to with this story and it feels complete. I am so grateful to all of you who have followed and reviewed! I am very pleased with where this story has gone, and it is all thanks to you. If there is anything you wish me to write about in future please message me. Until then, thank you all so much and happy reading! Please enjoy!**

The air was getting colder, and the remaining elves restless for the wood. Dale was relatively well to do, the work done restoring buildings had provided enough to get the people back on track. It was obvious to Bard the elven King wanted to return to his Kingdom, a forlorn sadness in his eyes most days. Granted, much of that sadness had lifted when his wife had awoken, emotions Bard understood. Bard, as he leaned against a stone wall in the town, watched Mourena as she inspected the buildings. As human as she had been, she now seemed far away. Her red hair was mixed with silver, no less becoming but distinctly elven in its colour. She had a way of making people, anyone Bard wagered, fall in love with her. Perhaps, he thought, it was her gentle nature, or the warmth of kindness in her eyes. Physically her beauty was undeniable, but she was unaware of it – no, he thought, she does not care.

"These repairs have been done well." Mourena said, turning to face him, and Bard blinked himself out of his thoughts. "I am glad to see it."

"The help was well received. We could not have done it alone in such a short time." He responded, and she gave him a smile.

"It seems fate was kind enough to deliver us here." She responded.

"You have done much to help us." Bard said softly, "We will never forget it."

"Nonsense. I hardly did anything, or did my lying in a death like state serve some greater purpose I have not been told about." Mourena chuckled, hearing Legolas approach before she saw him.

"I would like to repay you in some way, if I can." Bard said, pushing himself off the wall.

"That can be easily fulfilled." Mourena said, touching the man's arm. "You must come to my wedding, Lord of Dale. Your son as well."

"But you are already married?" Bard said as he saw Legolas appear in the corner of his vision.

"Technically yes, but there still needs to be a ceremony." Mourena blushed and Bard chuckled and nodded. "You understand, I think."

"I would be honored to attend." Bard replied, nodding to Legolas.

"Rinnin-" Legolas said, bowing slightly and Mourena sighed.

"Must I keep repeating myself?" Mourena said, "Just call me by my name."

"-Adar requests your presence." Legolas extended her his arm and she shook her head in defeat. Bard said his farewell and the two made their way back to where ever her husband was sitting, brooding no doubt. "You have healed very well, fate has been kind to us."

"It does seem that way, does it not." Mourena said softly, "If only you could have the same happiness as I, my son." Legolas said nothing, but his eyes flashed with dislike and she smiled. "I am surprised no one has captured your attention."

"I did not know this interested you." Legolas replied, his eyes facing forward.

"One becomes interested in all after sleeping for all eternity." She replied softly, "Your happiness is my own, as is your fathers."

"It does you credit, but my heart is my own." Legolas replied, watching Midhaer as she sat with Suzy in the distance.

"Is Midhaer's heart your own as well?" The elf walking beside her stopped and looked at her sharply, Mourena smiled touching his face gently. "I was asleep, not deaf my dear friend. I know she means much to you."

"Did my father put you up to this?" He questioned.

"You think your father would involve me in a matchmaking process? Honestly Legolas, I doubt he would resort to using me as mediator." Mourena said smoothly, shaking her head as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

"No, he would not," Legolas agreed. "I apologize for my hastiness."

"There is no need." Mourena tapped his arm softly. "You did much for me, by bringing us together I think. Is there no way for me to return the kindness?"

"I do not know." Legolas replied, "I cannot escape what she means to me, yet she resists every affection."

"Ah well." Mourena said, tilting her head to one side. "Perhaps with time, you shall come upon the answer."

"That is all the advice you have to offer?" Legolas asked, sounding surprised and slightly suspicious.

"You could always ask your father?" Mourena replied and Legolas' face flashed annoyance. "Or follow in his footsteps?" His facial expression remained the same, and she chuckled to herself as she stepped away from him. "Your father is calling me, I must away." She walked slowly, unknowingly gliding along until she reached the giant elk that stood outside Thranduil's tent. "Ah my friend," She said, touching the creature softly, "Is it time already?" The creature made a sound, nuzzling her as she touching it's neck and Mourena nodded, looking around.

"Must you insist on disturbing him, he is resting." Thranduil drawled, pushing the fabric aside. He wore his travelling clothes, and he had a robe over his forearm meant for her. "How are you feeling?"

"I am well," She replied, turning to face him, "I assure you, I am. How are you, restless I imagine."

"I have no desire to remain here any longer." Thranduil acknowledged, "I think our business here is finished. Bard the Bowman is now Lord of Dale, his son shall also become Lord of Dale. You have invited both dwarves and humans to our wedding without consulting me. And-"

"I deliberately disobeyed an order to rest to go gallivanting around a half ruined town and make everyone fall in love with me." Mourena smiled at him, stroking the beast gently. "It was the same yesterday. If you mean to frighten me, you shall have think up new material to chastise me with- husband."

"A king never repeats himself."

"Of course, he just, circles the forest a few times before he realises no one is listening." Mourena said softly, watching his face changed into a scowl, and she laughed, reaching a hand out to him. "I tease you, beautiful creature, do not scowl." The elf made a noise and took her hand, pulled her to him and she placed her head on his chest.

"If I scowl it is because I fear losing you." Thranduil whispered, "You cannot wander around without telling someone where you go."

"I was with Bard and Suzy, hardly harmful." Mourena said, stepping back, looking at the cloak. "Is that for me?"

"It was, before you belittled my speech."

"Ah, so-" She titled her head as she pursed her lips in thought. "-you are just going to leave me here?"

The elf snorted, making a sudden movement then engulfed her in fine fabric. As he tied the cloak, she looked up at him softly, watching his face. "I thought elves were immune to human emotions, like jealousy. I did not know it is the sheer impropriety of the notion that angers, the concept is so foreign to you. I am sorry I tease you in such a way."

"I have a strange feeling it will not be the last." He replied and she touched his face, and he bent to kiss her, meeting her lips. "However, I think all will be well in the end."

"Must I go to Rivendell for a year?" She asked, her hand on his arm.

"Do not look downcast, my love." He replied, tilted her head up. "It shall pass in a blink, and we shall be together. I shall visit you when I can. Lord Elrond can teach you much."

"More than the King of the Wood?" She asked softly.

"Some things must be done according to tradition, and you can rest without certain distractions." He responded softly, a soft smile on his face as she blushed.

"The problem is not mine." She replied, a smile on her face. "I can resist so called distractions."

"I do not know to what you refer." Thranduil spoke, picking her up into his arms and placing her onto the elk, who bellowed lightly in response. Swinging himself up behind her, she balanced her side-saddle position by resting on him, her head on his shoulder as he placed an arm around her. The elk made a noise as the elf directed him, his hooves touching the ground with soft thuds. "Now, my love, shall we return?"

"Starlight Prince!" Suzy called as they paused, the beast sniffed the child, the girl stopping in her tracks. "You aren't leaving?"

"No." Thranduil replied. "Not without saying goodbye."

"I knew you wouldn't." Suzy cried, and the elf leaned over, picking the child up into their laps. The elk moved, walking back into the town as the child chatted to them. Reaching Dale, she saw many of them were gathered around Bard, discussing his new status with Legolas. Haldir was bringing horses up, an elf walking beside him.

"Ah, my Lord Thranduil." Bard spoke, and Mourena was helped down with friendly arms after Suzy. "My lady."

"My lord." She replied, Midhaer smiled at Mourena while bowing her head in respect and Mourena waved a hand in the air. "Goodness me, I did not die. Please, cease these informalities, we are friends."

"It is a sad day to see you leave." Bard spoke, "My Lord, you have done so much for us. We shall never forget it."

"Nonsense." Mourena spoke, "What is aid between friends, Bard – Lord of Dale. I take comfort knowing you will lead these people to greatness, restoring peace to Dale. If anyone can achieve such a task, it would be you."

"Rinnin speaks truthfully." Legolas spoke, bowing his head to Mourena with formality and she grimaced. "They could not place such a title on a more worthy subject."

"It is true then," Thranduil drawled, "- and shall remain. The title Lord of Dale shall be passed down through the ages, and shall always find favor in the Woodland realm."

"It is an honor." Bard replied, bowing his head and then giving them both a smile.

"You weren't leaving without saying goodbye, were ya lassie?" A voice said, and she turned, smiling at the dwarf.

"I did not know you were in the city, Master Dwalin." Mourena replied with a smile. "You shall tell them of my departure then."

"Aye, if I must." Dwalin said, his eyes widening in surprise as the woman hugged him. He saw a look of annoyance flash across the King's face and it made him chuckle. "Go now, before ya bring me to tears with your elvish smell."

Mourena chuckled, standing as Bain stood by her. She tilted her head as he handed her a flower, and she smiled softly. "Take care Bain, grow much in the next year, so I don't mistake you for a dwarf."

"I shall try." Bain responded.

"Not too much mind, I don't want to mistake you for troll." Mourena said, and people chucked around them as the boy blushed when she embraced him in a hug. She said nothing as she felt a stirring within her heart, it needed no words. She looked at Thranduil, stepping over to him and standing next to him as she looked around. She knew she would return again, one day; perhaps when Bain was crowned Lord of Dale, she was not sure. Haldir stood nearby. He was to accompany her to as far as Lorien, and then Legolas would accompany Midhaer and herself to Rivendale. The young elven lady stood by Haldir, watching him softly as she spoke. Mourena watched the scene, squeezing Thranduil's forearm lightly. Her life no longer existed in-between worlds, her heart was no longer divided. She doubted not that surprises would come her way, maybe even an adventure or two. Some things were unresolved still, but fate had a funny way of bringing things to a close. Mourena looked up at the elf she called her lover, a smile on her face. "Let us home, Thranduil."


End file.
